LIBRARY! 

.WTIVERSITY  OF  CALIKJRNTA 
DAVIS 


THE  PROPERTY  OF 
WILLIAM  CROWNINSHIELD  ENDICOTT 


?"V  'frL 


of  $lti  <£ngl(0f)  Btotnes, 


UNDER  THE  EDITORIAL  SUPERVISION  OF 

WILLIAM  G.  T.  SHEDD,  D.D., 

PROFESSOR  IN   UNION  THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY,  NEW  YORK. 


SERMONS  OF  ROBERT  SOUTH. 
VOL.  L 


SERMONS 


PREACHED  UPON 


SEVERAL   OCCASIONS 


BY 

ROBERT  SOUTH,  D.D., 

PREBENDARY   OF   WESTMINSTER,   AND   CANON   OF   CHRIST   CHURCH,   OXFORD. 


IN  FIVE  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


NEW  YORK: 
PUBLISHED  BY  KURD  AND  HOUGHTON. 

1866. 


LIBRARY 

OF  C 
DAVIS 


RIVERSIDE,  CAMBRIDGE: 

STEREOTYPED  AND  PRINTED   BY 

H.  O.  HOUGHTON  AND  COMPANY. 


PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE. 


IT  is  proposed  to  reprint  the  works  of  the  most  distinguished 
theologians  and  preachers  of  England,  previous  to  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  under  the  title  of  "  Library  of  Old  Eng 
lish  Divines."  The  object  is,  to  place  within  reach  of  American 
readers  an  edition  of  the  principal  theological  writers  of  Great 
Britain  during  the  golden  age  of  both  secular  and  sacred  litera 
ture,  in  a  style  equal  to  that  of  the  best  English  editions,  and  at 
a  much  smaller  price.  The  complete  writings  of  such  authors  as 
Hooker  and  Jeremy  Taylor,  Baxter  and  Howe,  are  now  inaccessible 
to  many,  because  of  the  great  expense  involved  in  the  importation  of 
foreign  books.  *  Only  inferior  reprints,  and  imperfect  selections,  rep 
resent  these  and  other  great  lights  of  English  theology  in  many  of 
the  private  libraries  of  the  land  ;  and  very  many  of  them  are  wholly 
unrepresented.  It  is  believed  that  the  opportunity  of  obtaining  com 
plete  editions  of  these  authors,  in  the  best  style  of  the  printer's  art, 
and  at  a  cost  even  less  than  that  which  was  paid  previous  to  the  pres 
ent  enormous  rise  in  all  foreign  productions,  will  be  welcome  to  a 
great  number  of  students  and  general  readers  both  lay  and  clerical. 
For  it  is,  probably  more  than  ever,  the  conviction  amongst  thoroughly 
educated  men,  that  the  foundations  of  a  profound  and  powerful 
culture  in  theology  must  be  laid  in  the  study  of  the  Old  Divines  of 
England. 

It  is  with  this  conviction  that  the  publishers  venture  upon  an 
enterprise  that  must  involve  a  large  outlay,  and  result  in  a  great  num 
ber  of  volumes.  They  have  in  contemplation  the  republication  of  the 
writings  of  ANDREWES,  BARROW,  BATES,  BAXTER,  BULL,  BUNYAN, 
BUTLER,  CHARNOCK,  CHILLINGWORTH,  CLARKE,  CUD  WORTH,  DAVE- 
NANT,  DONNE,  FIELD,  FLAVEL,  HALL,  HOOKER,  HOPKINS,  HOWE, 
JACKSON,  LATIMER,  LEIGHTON,  MORE,  OWEN,  PEARSON,  SANDER 
SON,  STILLINGFLEET,  SIBBS,  SMITH,  SOUTH,  TAYLOR,  TILLOTSON, 


vi  Publishers9  Preface. 

USHER,  and  WATERLAND.  To  these  names  others  may  be  added, 
and  some  of  these  may,  possibly,  be  dropped ;  but  they  are  here  men 
tioned  as  indicative  of  the  general  cast  and  tone  of  the  "  Library." 
The  aim  will  be,  to  bring  into  one  solid  and  comprehensive  collection 
the  theological  wisdom  of  England  in  its  elder  period. 

The  reprints  will  be  made  from  the  latest  and  best  English  edi 
tions,  and  will  be  accompanied  with  concise  yet  full  biographical 
memoirs,  and  copious  indexes.  The  memoirs,  so  far  as  possible,  will 
be  selected  from  existing  materials,  and  preference  will  in  every 
instance  be  given  to  those  biographers  who  from  intimate  personal 
acquaintance  were  in  sympathy  with  the  subject  of  the  biography. 
It  is  proposed  to  publish  only  complete  editions  of  an  author.  This 
is  the  preference  of  the  publishers.  But  if,  owing  to  very  great 
voluminousness,  and  the  lack  of  a  popular  demand,  in  any  particular 
instance,  this  rule  should  be  varied  from,  entire  treatises  will  invari 
ably  be  given.  There  will  be  no  compilations,  alterations,  or  mutila 
tions  ;  but  each  author,  even  in  case  he  should  not  appear  in  all  his 
works,  will  be  represented  by  entire  treatises  in  the  exact  form  in 
which  he  has  come  down  to  us. 

The  prosecution  of  the  enterprise  to  its  completion  must,  of  course, 
depend  upon  the  public.  Should  the  publishers  find  that  they  have 
presumed  too  much  upon  the  popular  demand,  the  publication  of  the 
first  author  in  the  series  will  disclose  the  fact,  and  put  a  stop  to  fur 
ther  advance.  But  should  the  success  of  the  first  be  apparent,  the 
second  will  follow,  and  the  others  in  their  course.  Each  author  will 
be  sold  separately  as  well  as  collectively,  so  that  all  classes  of  buyers 
may  suit  their  convenience  or  preferences. 


MEMOIR    OF    DR    ROBEET    SOUTH. 


ROBERT  SOUTH  was  born  at  Hackney,  in  1633.  His  father 
was  an  eminent  London  merchant,  and  his  mother,  whose 
maiden  name  was  Berry,  belonged  to  a  good  Kentish  family.  In 
1647,  after  distinguishing  himself  by  his  progress  in  the  preliminary 
studies,  he  was  admitted  a  king's  scholar  at  Westminster,  where  he 
remained  for  four  years  under  the  tuition  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Busby. 
Even  so  garly  as  1649  he  gave  a  decided  indication  of  that  attach 
ment  to  an  established  form  of  government  in  Church  and  State, 
for  which  he  was  conspicuous  through  life,  by  praying  for  Charles 
I.  by  name,  while  reading  the  Latin  prayers  in  the  school  on  the 
day  of  that  monarch's  execution. 

In  1651,  he  was  elected,  at  the  same  time  with  John  Locke,  a 
student  of  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  where  he  soon  attracted  attention 
by  his  attainments.  He  took  his  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  in  1 655, 
and  in  the  same  year  published  a  panegyric  in  Latin  verse,  on  Oliver 
Cromwell,  on  the  occasion  of  his  conclusion  of  the  peace  with  the 
Dutch,  —  a  circumstance  which  did  not  escape  the  opponents  of  Dr. 
South  in  after  years,  who  ascribed  to  unsteadiness  of  principle  what 
perhaps  was  the  mere  exercise  of  scholarship  upon  a  theme  imposed 
by  his  superiors  in  the  University,  and  as  to  which  he  had  himself 
no  choice.  It  was  certainly  the  last  compliment  he  ever  paid  to 
Cromwell.  By  his  adherence  to  the  liturgy  and  ritual  of  the  Church 
of  England,  South  appears  to  have  given  offense  to  the  members  of 
the  dominant  political  party,  who  then  held  the  control  of  the  Univer 
sity,  and  Dr.  John  Owen,  who  was  Vice-Chancellor  at  the  time,  op 
posed  his  obtaining  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts ;  but  fortunately 
for  South,  a  majority  of  those  with  whom  the  power  of  conferring  the 
degree  lay  was  in  his  favor,  and  he  received  it  in  1657.  In  1658  he 
was  admitted  to  holy  orders  by  a  deprived  bishop. 

The  Restoration  greatly  improved  his  ecclesiastical  position.  In 
August,  1660,  he  was  elected  public  orator  to  the  University  of 
Oxford,  and  some  time  after  this  he  was  appointed  chaplain  to  the 
Chancellor  Clarendon,  whose  attention  had  been  directed  to  him 
by  an  oration  delivered  in  his  capacity  of  public  orator,  upon  the 


viii  Memoir  of  Dr.  Robert  South. 

occasion  of  Clarendon's  installation  as  Chancellor  of  the  University. 
This  opened  the  door  for  his  advancement,  and  he  was  installed  Preb 
endary  of  Saint  Peter's,  Westminster,  on  30th  March,  1663.  He 
obtained  his  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity,  in  the  October  of  that  year, 
after  some  opposition  on  the  ground  of  his  being  a  Master  of  Arts 
of  only  six  years'  standing.  This  difficulty  was  overruled,  doubtless, 
from  a  regard  to  the  high  attainments  of  South.  These  were  univer 
sally  recognized,  and  in  1670  he  was  installed  a  canon  of  Christ 
Church,  Oxford. 

In  1667  he  committed  to  the  press  a  Latin  poem,  written  in  1655, 
entitled,  "Musica  Inconstans,  sive  Poema  exprimens  Musicce  vires,  Ju- 
venem  in  Insaniam  adigentis,  et  Musici  inde  Periculum."  This  juvenile 
effusion  was  highly  applauded  at  the  time,  says  a  contemporary 
biographer,  "  for  the  beauty  of  its  language,  and  the  quickness  of  its 
turns,"  —  a  species  of  encomium,  which  seems  to  imply  that  it  be 
longed  to  the  metaphysical  school  of  poetry.  The  work,  which  has 
now  become  extremely  rare,  has,  no  doubt,  deservedly  passed  into 
oblivion.  South  himself  regretted  its  publication  "  as  a  juvenile  and 
momentary  performance." 

In  June,  1677,  South  accompanied  Mr.  Lawrence  Hyde,  the  son 
of  the  Earl  of  Clarendon,  and  afterwards  Lord  Rochester,  to  Poland, 
on  an  embassy  with  which  that  gentleman  was  intrusted,  to  congrat 
ulate  John  Sobieski  on  his  election  to  the  Crown  of  Poland,  and 
to  carry  presents  to  his  daughter,  the  Princess  Teresa,  afterwards 
Electress  of  Bavaria,  to  whom  Charles  II.  had  some  time  before 
stood  godfather  by  proxy.  Mr.  Hyde,  whose  tutor  Dr.  South  had 
been,  in  which  capacity  he  had  greatly  endeared  himself  to  him,  pro 
posed  that  he  should  accompany  the  embassy  as  chaplain,  to  which 
the  doctor  readily  agreed.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  that  he  should  have 
gladly  embraced  this  opportunity  of  becoming  personally  acquainted 
with  a  country  to  which  the  eyes  of  all  Europe  were  then  earnestly 
directed,  and  of  seeing  Sobieski,  who  was  certainly  the  most  remarka 
ble  man  of  his  time.  Sobieski  had,  only  two  years  before,  upon  the 
death  of  the  feeble  and  worthless  Michael  Wiezsnowiezky,  been 
elected  king  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  Polish  diet,  and  he  had, 
since  that  period,  signalized  himself  by  beating  back,  with  compara 
tively  a  handful  of  men,  the  overwhelming  armies  of  Mahomet  IV., 
which  threatened  destruction  to  the  faith  and  liberties  of  Europe. 
The  decisive  struggle,  which  was  to  crush  forever  the  hopes  of  the 
Moslem,  did  not  take  place  for  seven  years  afterwards ;  but  Sobieski's 
achievements  had  even  then  been  such,  as  to  be  regarded  by  Europe 
more  as  miracles  than  as  ordinary  conquests,  and  to  earn  him,  from 
the  terrors  of  Turk  and  Tartar,  the  title  of  "  The  Wizard  King." 


Memoir  of  Dr.  Robert  South.  ix 

South  has  recorded  his  observations  during  his  visit  to  Poland  in 
a  long  and  elaborate  letter  from  Dantzic,  dated  16th  December,  1677, 
to  Dr.  Edward  Pococke,  then  Regius  Professor  of  Hebrew  at  Oxford, 
and  one  of  the  Canons  of  Christ  Church.  This  letter,  which  is  dis 
tinguished  by  his  usual  shrewdness  of  observation,  forms  a  very  curi 
ous  and  interesting  historical  document. 

Soon  after  South's  return  to  England,  he  was  presented  by  the 
Dean  and  Chapter  of  the  Collegiate  Church  of  Westminster,  to  the 
Rectory  of  Islip  in  Oxfordshire.  It  is  recorded  of  him,  that  he  applied 
the  whole  revenues  of  the  benefice,  which  amounted  to  £200  per 
annum,  after  setting  aside  one  half  to  his  curate,  in  educating  and 
apprenticing  the  poorer  children  of  his  parish.  He  repaired  the 
chancel,  which  had  fallen  into  disrepair,  at  his  own  cost,  as  appears 
from  a  Latin  inscription  over  the  entrance.  The  parsonage  house 
having  also  fallen  into  decay,  besides  being  unsuitable  to  a  living  of 
such  importance,  South  purchased  a  piece  of  ground,  and  built  a 
handsome  mansion-house  upon  it,  which  he  settled  upon  himself 
and  his  successors  in  the  cure. 

In  1685,  Dr.  South,  who  was  by  this  time  one  of  his  majesty's 
chaplains  in  ordinary,  preached  his  sermon  entitled,  —  "All  contin 
gencies  under  the  direction  of  God's  providence"  in  presence  of  the 
king.  Speaking  of  the  train  of  mischievous  consequences  which  often 
spring  from  trivial  beginnings,  and  the  unexpected  advancement  of 
persons  of  the  lowest  grade  to  fortune  and  power,  South  illustrates 
his  argument  by  the  following  passage,  which  is  little  creditable  to 
his  temper  or  taste,  considering  the  circumstances  in  which  it  was 
spoken, — "Who,"  he  says,*  "  that  had  beheld  such  a  bankrupt,  beg 
garly  fellow  as  Cromwell,  first  entering  the  parliament  -  house  with 
a  threadbare  torn  cloak,  and  a  greasy  hat,  (and  perhaps  neither  of 
them  paid  for,)  could  have  suspected  that  in  the  space  of  a  few  years, 
he  should,  by  the  murder  of  one  king,  and  the  banishment  of  another, 
ascend  the  throne,  be  invested  in  the  royal  robes,  and  want  nothing 
of  the  state  of  a  king,  but  the  changing  of  his  hat  into  a  crown  ? " 
On  hearing  this,  the  king  is  said  to  have  burst  into  a  violent  fit  of 
laughter,  and  turning  to  Lord  Rochester,  to  have  exclaimed,  "  Ods 
fish,  Lory,  your  chaplain  must  be  a  bishop ;  therefore  put  me  in  mind 
of  him  at  the  next  death."  It  was  from  no  sycophantish  motive, 
however,  that  South  indulged  in  such  intemperate  and  misplaced 
railing  at  the  protector  and  his  party ;  for  although  a  bishopric  was 
repeatedly  offered  to  him  during  the  remaining  part  of  Charles's 
reign,  he  uniformly  declined  these  offers,  saying,  that  he  was  amply 
provided  with  the  means  for  maintaining  the  dignities  which  he 
*  See  Sermon  VIII. 

VOL.   I. 


x  Memoir  of  Dr.  Robert  South. 

already  held  in  the  church,  and  for  upholding  the  charities  which 
he  had  already  settled,  or  had  in  contemplation. 

Similar  offers  were  made  to  him  during  James's  reign,  and  in  like 
manner  declined.  South  was  a  determined  enemy  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  religion,  and  strongly  disapproved  of  the  measures  adopted 
by  James  for  its  restoration.  He  is  said  to  have  assisted  by  his 
advice  in  a  controversy  conducted  in  presence  of  the  king  between 
Fathers  Giffard  and  Tilden  on  the  one  side,  and  Drs.  Jane  and  Pat 
rick  on  the  other,  which  ended  in  the  defeat  of  the  advocates  of 
the  Romish  church,  who  were  dismissed  by  the  king  with  the  remark, 
"  that  he  could  say  more  itf  behalf  of  his  religion  than  they  could ; 
and  that  he  never  heard  a  good  cause  managed  so  ill,  nor  a  bad  one 
so  well."  Dr.  South  had  originally  been  proposed  as  the  party  to 
conduct  this  controversy  on  the  part  of  the  church  of  England  along 
with  Dr.  Jane,  but  he  was  objected  to  by  the  king,  to  whom  his 
invectives  from  the  pulpit  against  the  Papists  had  made  him  unac 
ceptable. 

Notwithstanding  his  opposition  to  the  king  in  matters  of  religion, 
his  loyalty,  which  was  based  upon  extreme  notions  of  the  right  di 
vine  of  kings,  remained  unshaken.  During  Monmouth's  rebellion, 
he  professed  himself  ready,  if  occasion  required,  to  change  his  black 
gown  for  a  buff-coat ;  and  when  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and 
the  bishops  who  subscribed  the  invitation  to  the  Prince  of  Orange 
to  come  over,  applied  to  him  for  his  signature,  his  answer  was,  that 
"  his  religion  had  taught  him  to  bear  all  things ;  and  howsoever  it 
should  please  God  that  he  should  suffer,  he  would,  by  the  divine 
assistance,  continue  to  abide  by  his  allegiance,  and  use  no  other 
weapons  but  his  prayers  and  tears  for  the  recovery  of  his  sovereign 
from  the  wicked  and  unadvised  counsels  wherewith  he  was  entan 
gled." 

It  was  some  time  before  South  gave  in  his  adherence  to  the  new 
government ;  but  after  the  abdication  of  James,  and  the  settlement 
of  the  crown  on  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Orange,  he  considered 
that  James's  desertion  of  his  kingdom  put  an  end  to  his  claims  upon 
the  allegiance  of  his  subjects.  He  therefore  withdrew  his  opposi 
tion,  and  acknowledged  the  legality  of  the  Revolution  settlement. 
Offers  were  made  to  promote  him  to  one  of  the  episcopal  sees  va 
cated  by  the  non-juring  bishops,  but  these  he  declined,  declaring  with 
a  noble  spirit,  "  that  notwithstanding  he  himself  saw  nothing  contrary 
to  the  laws  of  God,  and  the  common  practice  of  all  nations,  to  sub 
mit  to  princes  in  possession  of  the  throne,  yet  others  might  have 
their  reasons  for  a  contrary  opinion  ;  and  he  blessed  God,  that  he 
was  neither  so  ambitious,  nor  in  want  of  preferment,  as,  for  the  sake 


Memoir  of  Dr.  Robert  South.  xi 

of  it,  to  build  his  rise  upon  the  ruins  of  any  one  father  of  the  church, 
who  for  piety,  good  morals,  and  strictness  of  life,  which  every  one 
of  the  deprived  bishops  was  famed  for,  might  be  said  not  to  have 
left  their  equals." 

South,  who  was  extremely  jealous  of  all  encroachments  upon  the 
power  and  dignities,  as  well  as  upon  the  ritual,  of  the  Established 
Church,  was  by  no  means  friendly  to  the  Act  of  Toleration.  He  had 
used  his  most  vigorous  efforts  on  behalf  of  the  Liturgy  and  forms 
of  prayer,  with  the  Commissioners  appointed  by  the  king  in  1689, 
with  the  view  to  an  union  with  dissenting  Protestants,  anxiously 
maintaining  that  they  should  not  part  with  any  of  its  ceremonies, 
lest  the  whole  might  be  endangered.  He  also  preached  with  the 
utmost  ardor  against  the  admission  of  dissenters  into  the  revenues 
of  the  church,  dwelling  on  their  insufficiency  and  want  of  all  fit  knowl 
edge  and  preparation  for  the  great  work  of  the  ministry.  In  pur 
suing  this  theme  he  leveled  against  them  all  the  learning  and  pointed 
ridicule  which  he  had  so  readily  at  command.  For  example,  he  thus 
speaks  of  them  in  a  sermon  preached  in  the  Abbey  Church  of  West 
minster,  in  1692,  upon  1  Cor.  xii.  4.  "Now  there  are  diversities  of 
gifts,  but  the  same  Spirit"  "  Amongst  those  of  the  late  reforming  age, 
all  learning  was  utterly  cried  down ;  so  that  with  them  the  best 
preachers  were  such  as  could  not  read,  and  the  ablest  divines  such 
as  could  hardly  spell  the  letter.  To  be  blind  was  with  them  the 
proper  qualification  of  a  spiritual  guide ;  and  to  be  book-learned,  as 
they  called  it,  and  to  be  irreligious,  were  almost  terms  convertible. 
None  were  thought  fit  for  the  ministry  but  tradesmen  and  mechanics, 
because  none  else  were  allowed  to  have  the  Spirit.  Those  only  were 
accounted  like  Saint  Paul,  who  could  work  with  their  hands,  and,  in 
a  literal  sense,  drive  the  nail  home,  and  be  able  to  make  a  pulpit 
before  they  preached  in  it."  * 

In  the  year  1693,  South  became  involved  in  a  controversy  with 
Dr.  Sherlock,  then  Dean  of  Saint  Paul's,  which  originated  in  a  work 
written  by  the  latter,  on  the  subject  of  the  Socinian  heresy,  entitled, 
"A  Vindication  of  the  Holy  and  Ever  Blessed  Trinity." f  The  con 
troversy  was  conducted  with  great  skill  and  power  of  argument  on 
both  sides,  but,  like  most  controversies,  it  was  mingled  with  more 
personality  and  bitterness  than  befitted  the  solemnity  of  the  subject 
South  was  generally  admitted  to  have  had  the  best  of  the  discussion* 
It  was  only  terminated,  however,  by  the  interposition  of  the  royal 
authority,  in  a  direction  to  the  archbishops  and  bishops,  that  no 

*  See  Sermon  XXXV.  the  grave  heresy  of  Tritheism.    It  was 

t  Sherlock,  in  prosecuting  his  argu-  to  combat  this  doctrine  that  South  en- 
ment,  however,  had  himself  fallen  into  tered  the  lists. 


xii  Memoir  of  Dr.  Robert  South. 

preacher  whatsoever,  should,  in  his  sermon  or  lecture,  deliver  any 
other  doctrine  concerning  the  Trinity,  than  what  was  contained  in 
the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  was  agreeable  to  the  three  creeds,  and  the 
thirty-nine  articles.  The  controversy  attracted  much  attention  at  the 
time,  and  the  wit  and  ingenuity  in  which  it  was  conducted  led  many 
to  take  an  interest  in  it  who  certainly  would  not  have  been  induced 
to  do  so  by  the  abstract  question  which  was  involved  in  it.  But  in 
this  strife  of  wits  the  interests  of  religion  seem  to  have  been  endan 
gered,  as  they  ever  must  be,  when  its  most  sacred  mysteries  become 
the  familiar  themes  for  the  exercise  of  intellectual  ingenuity,  and  are 
mingled  with  passions  purely  secular. 

South  was  of  too  ardent  a  temperament  to  conduct  a  controversy 
with  prudence,  as  well  as  power.  Wherever  his  sword  fell,  it  carried 
the  whole  vigor  of  his  arm,  and  in  this  matter  he  was  too  much  in 
earnest,  and  indeed  it  was  at  no  time  his  practice,  to  cast  about  for 
holiday  terms  in  speaking  of  his  opponent.  "  Surely,"  he  says,  writ 
ing  some  years  after  the  controversy  was  closed,  "  surely  it  would  be 
thought  a  very  odd  way  of  ridding  a  man  of  the  plague,  by  running 
him  through  with  a  sword ;  or  of  a  lethargy,  by  casting  him  into  a 
calenture,  —  a  disease  of  a  contrary  nature  indeed,  but  no  less  fatal 
to  the  patient,  who  equally  dies,  whether  his  sickness,  or  his  physic, 
the  malignity  of  his  distemper,  or  the  method  of  his  cure,  dispatches 
him.  And  in  like  manner  must  it  fare  with  a  church,  which,  feeling 
itself  struck  with  the  poison  of  Socinianism,  flies  to  Tritheism  for  an 
antidote." 

During  the  latter  years  of  South's  life  his  health  was  completely 
broken.  His  ailments  were  of  a  painful  and  irritating  kind,  but  he 
preserved  his  sprightliness  and  vivacity  in  his  intercourse  with  his 
friends,  who  were  few  and  well  chosen.  By  many  he  was  charged 
with  moroseness  and  sullenness  of  temper,  the  necessary  fate  of  a 
man  of  earnest  habits  of  thought,  gifted  with  keen  observation  of 
life,  and  a  natural  play  of  witty  expression.  So  far  was  he,  however, 
from  deserving  the  character  thus  attributed  to  him,  says  a  contem 
porary  biographer,  who  knew  him  well,  "  that  whosoever  was  once  in 
his  company,  went  off  with  such  a  relish  of  his  wit  and  good  humor, 
as  to  covet  the  coming  into  it,  though  at  the  expense  of  bearing  a 
part  in  the  subject  of  his  raillery.  So  that  what  was  said  of  Horace, 
might,  on  as  just  grounds,  be  worked  into  his  character,  — 

*  Ridentem  Flaccus  amicum 
Tangit,  et  admissus  circuin  praecordia  ludit.'  " 

During  the  greater  part  of  Queen  Anne's  reign  he  was  in  a  state 
of  inactivity,  the  infirmities  of  age  growing  fast  upon  him,  and  al 
most  preventing  him  from  performing  the  duties  of  his  ministerial 


Memoir  of  Dr.  Robert  South.  xiii 

office.  So  early  as  1709,  his  infirmities  were  such,  that  the  eyes  of 
eager  expectants  were  turned  to  him  in  hopes  of  a  speedy  vacancy 
in  his  prebend's  stall,  and  rectory.  Swift,  in  a  letter  to  the  Earl  of 
Halifax,  dated  the  13th  January  of  that  year,*  in  which  he  presses 
his  suit  for  preferment,  adds  in  a  postscript,  "  Pray,  my  Lord,  desire 
Dr.  South  to  die  about  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  for  he  has  a  prebend  of 
Westminster,  which  will  make  me  your  neighbor,  and  a  sinecure  in 
the  country,  both  in  the  queen's  gift,  which  my  friends  have  often 
told  me  would  fit  me  extremely."  Halifax,  answering  this  letter  on 
6th  October,  1709,  says,  "  Dr.  South  holds  out  still,  but  he  cannot 
be  immortal."  South  continued,  however,  to  hold  out  longer  than 
Swift's  patience,  and  on  the  13th  of  November,  in  the  same  year, 
the  latter  again  wrote  Lord  Halifax,  "  If  you  think  this  gentle  winter 
will  not  carry  off  Dr.  South,  or  that  his  reversion  is  not  to  be  com 
passed,  your  lordship  would  please  to  use  your  credit  that,  as  my 
Lord  Somers  thought  of  me,  last  year,  for  the  bishopric  of  Water- 
ford,  so  my  Lord  President  may  now  think  of  me  for  that  of  Cork, 
if  the  incumbent  dies  of  the  spotted  fever  he  is  now  under."  The 
infirm  old  man  weathered  the  "  gentle  winter,"  and  even  outlived  by 
a  year  the  Earl  of  Halifax  himself,  who  died  in  1715. 

To  the  last,  South  refused  to  be  made  a  bishop,  although  the 
honor  was  repeatedly  pressed  upon  him,  during  Queen  Anne's  reign. 
When  the  see  of  Rochester  and  deanery  of  Westminster,  vacant  by 
the  death  of  Dr.  Sprat,  were  offered  to  him,  his  answer  was,  "  that 
such  a  chair  would  be  too  uneasy  for  an  old  infirm  man  to  sit  in,  and 
he  held  himself  much  better  satisfied  with  living  upon  the  eaves- 
droppings  of  the  church,  than  to  fare  sumptuously  by  being  placed 
at  the  pinnacle  of  it,"  —  alluding  to  his  house,  which  adjoined  the 
Abbey.  His  zeal  for  the  welfare  of  his  beloved  church  lost  none 
of  its  ardor,  and  we  are  not  surprised  to  find  that  among  the  last 
acts  of  his  public  life  was  his  interesting  himself  on  behalf  of  the 
notorious  Dr.  Sacheverell. 

South  continued  to  enjoy  his  mental  faculties  to  the  last  amid  the 
increasing  infirmities  of  advanced  age,  and  ended  his  long  and  useful 
life  on  the  8th  of  July,  1716,  at  the  age  of  eighty-three.  He  was 
buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  near  the  grave  of  his  old  master,  Dr. 
Busby,  where  the  inscription  on  his  tombstone  records  he  had  desired 
that  his  remains  should  be  laid.  A  monument,  with  his  figure  in  a 
recumbent  posture,  marks  the  spot,  and  fixes  the  attention  by  the 
peculiar  uneasiness  of  the  position  in  which  the  sculptor  has  chosen 
to  place  his  subject,  as  if  to  prevent  the  natural  exclamation  of  the 

*  See  Original  Letters  of  Eminent  Literary  Men,  p.  340.  London,  1843. 
Printed  by  the  Camden  Society. 


xiv  Memoir  of  Dr.  Robert  South. 

thoughtful  passer-by,  —  "  after  life's  fitful  fever  he  sleeps  well ! "  An 
elaborate  epitaph  records  the  virtues  of  him  that  sleeps  beneath.  It 
is  too  long ;  but  it  possesses  this  rarer  characteristic  of  such  records, 
that  it  is  true. 

Throughout  life  South  showed  himself  a  man  of  warm  attach 
ments  ;  his  friendships  were  firm  and  lasting ;  his  dislikes  the  same. 
He  was  conspicuous  for  his  charities,  for  the  simplicity  and  integrity 
of  his  life,  and  for  his  energetic  devotion  to  the  duties  of  his  high 
calling.  His  sincerity  cannot  be  doubted,  less  because  he  uniformly 
declined  preferment,  than  because  he  feared  not  to  stigmatize  vice, 
and  to  preach  the  high  duties  of  Christianity  to  an  unprincipled  mon 
arch  and  a  dissolute  court,  whom  his  theories  of  political  government 
led  him  to  look  up  to  with  feelings  of  reverence.  He  was  of  a  frank, 
fearless  nature,  and  what  he  felt  strongly,  he  gave  utterance  to  with 
out  reserve. 

The  same  characteristics  are  conspicuous  in  his  sermons.  He 
speaks  from  his  heart.  He  has  no  reserves ;  his  thoughts,  feelings, 
animosities,  and  predilections  animate  his  words  with  the  warmth 
of  the  source  that  nursed  them.  In  the  ardor  of  his  own  senti 
ments  he  often  forgets  to  make  allowance  for  those  of  other  men, 
and  in  matters  of  political  faith  or  ecclesiastical  rule,  we  find  him 
intolerant  and  bigoted  beyond  all  measure.  He  was  an  enthusiastic 
advocate  of  passive  obedience  and  the  divine  right  of  kings,  and 
maintained  them  by  arguments,  enforced  with  the  hot-headed  warmth 
by  which  these  principles  have  ever  been  maintained.  He  regarded 
the  Church  of  England  royalists  as  "  the  best  Christians,  and  the 
most  meritorious  subjects  in  the  world."  With  these  views  it  was 
to  be  expected  that  his  fiercest  opposition  should  be  directed  against 
the  sectarians,  with  which  the  country  was  overrun  —  the  preachers 
of  the  tub  and  the  barn,  who  held  all  human  learning  in  contempt, 
and  placed  at  defiance  all  decency  and  propriety  of  language.  "  Never 
had  man,"  it  has  been  well  said,*  "  a  subject  to  exert  his  ingenuity 
on,  more  congenial  to  his  temper,  and  never  were  poor  heretics  so 
assailed  with  invective  and  ridicule.  He  dwelt  with  delight  on  their 
meagre,  mortified  faces,  their  droning  and  snuffling  whine,  their  sanc 
timonious  hypocritical  demeanor ;  but  in  the  midst  of  his  pleasantry, 
he  shot  some  shafts  dipped  in  the  bitterest  gall,  and  pointed  by  the 
most  inveterate  hatred.  With  a  proud  consciousness  of  superior 
learning,  and  perhaps  a  pharisaical  conceit  of  superior  integrity; 
with  the  keenest  sarcasm  and  the  most  undisguised  contempt,  he 
held  up  to  the  detestation  of  mankind  these  impudent  pretenders 
to  the  gifts  of  the  Spirit"  "  We  have  thus  a  picture  of  a  singular 
*  Retrospective  Review,  vol.  ix.  page  295. 


Memoir  of  Dr.  Robert  South.  xv 

race  of  men  exhibited  in  the  most  striking,  but  yet  the  darkest  col 
ors,  by  the  hand  of  a  master ;  for  the  painter  himself  was  a  bigot, 
and  a  declared  foe  to  those  whom  he  portrayed.  It  is,  however,  useful 
to  have  the  portrait  drawn  even  by  an  enemy :  we  must  look  else 
where  for  the  more  pleasing  lights  and  colors." 

As  matters  of  history,  and  with  reference  to  our  estimate  of  the 
man  himself,  those  parts  of  his  sermons  which  relate  to  these  topics 
are  not  devoid  of  interest.  But  they  form  the  smallest  part  of  the 
attraction  which  these  noble  monuments  of  intellect  and  piety  pre 
sent.  South  knew  mankind  well.  There  is  no'  "  pleasant  vice,"  no 
self-gratulating  hypocrisy,  no  evasion  of  duty  under  a  complacent 
admission  of  its  claims,  that  can  escape  his  searching  glance.  He 
strips  vice  and  folly  of  their  frippery,  scatters  the  delusions  of  pride 
and  passion,  and  lays  down  the  rules  of  Christian  faith  and  practice 
with  a  precision,  which  satisfies  the  intellect,  while  it  leaves  the  trans 
gressor  without  an  excuse.  "  Not  diffuse,  not  learned,"  says  Mr. 
Hallam,*  "  not  formal  in  argument  like  Barrow,  with  a  more  natural 
structure  of  sentences,  a  more  pointed,  though  by  no  means  a  more 
fair  and  satisfactory  turn  of  reasoning,  with  a  style  clear  and  Eng 
lish,  and  free  from  all  pedantry,  but  abounding  with  those  colloquial 
novelties  of  idiom,  which,  though  now  vulgar  and  offensive,  the  age 
of  Charles  II.  affected,  sparing  no  personal  or  temporary  sarcasm, 
but,  if  he  seems  for  a  moment  to  tread  on  the  verge  of  buffoonery, 
recovering  himself  by  some  stroke  of  vigorous  sense  and  language ; 
such  was  the  worthy  Dr.  South,  whom  the  courtiers  delighted  to  hear. 
His  sermons  want  all  that  is  called  unction,  and  sometimes  even  ear 
nestness,  which  is  owing,  in  a  great  measure,  to  a  tone  of  perpetual 
gibing  at  rebels  and  fanatics ;  but  there  is  a  masculine  spirit  about 
them,  which,  combined  with  their  peculiar  characteristics,  would  nat 
urally  fill  the  churches  where  he  might  be  heard."  It  is  this  mascu 
line  spirit  which  gives  to  the  pages  of  South  an  interest  which  never 
flags,  and  we  never  turn  from  them  without  feeling  that  some  weak 
ness  has  been  overthrown,  some  principle  placed  in  a  clearer  light, 
and  a  healthy  tone  of  thought  communicated  to  the  mind.  His  place 
among  divines  may  not  be  with  the  highest,  but  it  is  not  far  beneath 
them.  As  a  clear  and  original  thinker,  and  as  a  master  of  a  manly 
and  forcible  style,  he  is  surpassed  by  none. 

"As  a  judge  of  men  and  manners,"  says  the  writer  in  the  "  Retro 
spective  Review,"  "and  a  careful  observer  of  human  life,  South 
deserves  the  highest  praise.  He  seldom  attempts  the  subtleties  of 
metaphysical  disquisition,  in  which  he  did  not  excel;  his  business 
was  with  the  broad  realities  of  life.  To  show  that  the  low  and  con- 

*  Literature  of  Europe,  iv.  177. 
6 


xvi  Memoir  of  Dr.  Robert  South. 

temptible  things  of  the  earth  often  govern  the  great  and  exalted, 
to  teach  man  reasonable  diffidence  and  modesty,  to  discourage  un 
bounded  hopes  and  expectations,  to  cherish  noble  and  honorable 
aspirations,  and  to  make  his  fellow-creatures  wiser  and  better ;  to 
do  this  was  the  useful  and  honorable  object  of  this  excellent  teacher. 
He  thought,  no  doubt,  he  had  said  a  witty  thing,  who  called  South's 
discourses  not  '  Sunday,  but  week-day  sermons ; '  his  meaning  was, 
we  presume,  if  he  had  any,  that  they  were  written  too  much  for 
Worldly  every-day  affairs  ;  a  charge,  which  a  very  numerous  class  of 
sermon-makers  have  no  cause  to  fear,  who  write  for  no  day  at  all. 
South's  sermons  are  adapted  to  all  readers  and  all  days ;  they  contain 
innumerable  thoughts  and  reflections  which  are  true  and  striking, 
though  not  always  the  most  obvious  to  a  common  thinker ;  and  this 
is  an  unequivocal  mark  of  a  good  writer.  From  him  we  might  form 
a  collection  of  useful  maxims,  in  which  sentiments  the  most  profound 
and  just  are  delivered  in  language  the  most  expressive  and  correct. 

"His  faults,  like  his  virtues,  are  many  and  great.  His  intolerant 
and  persecuting  spirit  we  have  before  had  occasion  to  notice  ;  words 
were  the  only  weapons  his  profession  allowed  him  to  use,  but  he 
wielded  them  with  a  terrible  vigor  and  effect.  Doubtless  he  would 
have  fought  with  the  same  spirit  that  he  wrote ;  for  during  Mon- 
mouth's  rebellion,  he  declared  he  was  ready,  if  there  should  be  occa 
sion,  to  change  his  black  gown  for  a  buff-coat.  To  his  detested 
enemies,  the  Papists  and  Puritans,  he  could  show  no  mercy,  and 
allow  no  virtue.  Milton,  with  him,  is  *  the  blind  adder,  who  spit  venom 
on  the  king's  person ; '  Cromwell  is  '  Baal,'  a  <  bankrupt  beggary  fel 
low,  who  entered  the  parliament-house  with  a  threadbare,  torn  cloak, 
and  greasy  hat,  and  perhaps  neither  of  them  paid  for;'  and  Sir  Henry 
Vane,  *  that  worthy  knight,  who  was  executed  on  Tower  Hill.'  His 
crying  sin  was  the  contrivance  of  the  covenant ;  and  for  this  South 
could  triumph  over  his  unjust  condemnation. 

"  Satire,  ridicule,  and  invective,  he  poured  forth  in  a  copious  and 
continuous  stream ;  but  he  was  often  carried  away  by  the  violence  of 
the  torrent,  which  he  could  neither  direct  nor  restrain.  He  would 
always  step  aside  to  have  a  blow  at  the  schismatics,  to  slyly  insinuate 
some  article  of  his  political  creed,  something  about  prerogative,  or 
occasionally  relieve  himself  by  a  discharge  from  his  inexhaustible 
fund  of  wit  and  humor.  This  humor  often  bordered  on  grossness 
and  indelicacy,  and  his  wit  certainly  betrayed  him  into  expressions 
certainly  improper,  if  not  profane.  What  he  could  not  confute  by 
argument,  he  would  overcome  by  ridicule.  He  well  knew  the  value 
of  Horace's  maxim  — - 

.'.*'.*.'  '  Ridiculum  acri 

Fortius  et  melius  magnas  plerumque  secat  res.' 


Memoir  of  Dr.  Robert  South.  xvii 

"  It  may  perhaps  be  objected  to  some  of  his  sermons  that  they 
contain  too  many  divisions  and  subdivisions,  and  that  order  leads  to 
confusion :  but  all  the  heads  of  his  discourse  are  fully  examined  and 
discussed ;  and  the  infinite  variety  and  fullness  of  the  man's  under 
standing  and  imagination  led  him  often  to  crowd  into  one  short 
sermon  what  a  modern  bookmaker  would  diffuse  over  a  folio. 

"  His  sermons,  to  be  properly  appreciated,  ought  to  be  carefully 
studied ;  and  we  may  venture  to  say  that  the  labor  will  not  be  un 
profitable  :  they  bear  the  unequivocal  stamp,  which  a  peculiar  turn 
•of  mind  and  a  great  genius  cannot  fail  to  impress.  The  copious 
and  energetic  language  of  South  might  serve  to  invigorate  the  well- 
turned  and  rounded  sentences  of  many  a  modern  scribbler,  which 
fall  softly  on  the  ear,  but  have  not  strength  to  penetrate  farther. 
The  man  of  business  and  active  life,  who  has  occasion  to  state  to 
others  what  he  knows  himself,  might  be  supplied  from  this  storehouse 
with  all  the  necessary  stock  of  words  and  all  the  clearness  of  expres 
sion  ;  and,  if  inclination  prompted,  or  circumstances  required,  he 
might  from  the  same  magazine  arm  himself  with  the  weapons  of 
ridicule,  sarcasm,  invective,  and  abuse.  It  is  no  pedantry  to  say  that 
we  observe  considerable  resemblance  between  the  style  of  South  and 
the  manner  of  the  great  Athenian  orator;  and  it  is  not  surprising 
that  there  should  be  a  similarity  between  two  men  of  ardent  tem 
perament,  who  on  all  subjects  thought  clearly  and  expressed  them 
selves  forcibly ;  both  were  men  of  strong  common  sense,  who  were 
deeply  interested  in  the  business  in  which  they  were  engaged ;  both 
waged  a  long  and  continued  warfare  with  enemies  whom  they  hated, 
and  both  had,  to  support  them,  the  command  of  a  mighty  and  pow 
erful  language." 


THE  CHIEF  HEADS  OF  THE  SERMONS. 
VOL.  I. 

SERMON  I. 

THE  WAYS  OP  WISDOM  ARE  WAYS  OP  PLEASANTNESS. 

Prov.  iii,  17.  — Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness.    Page  2. 

Some  objections  against  this  truth  are  removed,  3,  and  the  duty  of  repentance 
represented  under  a  mixture  of  sweetness,  7. 

The  excellencies  of  the  pleasure  of  wisdom  are  enumerated  : 

I.  As  it  is  the  pleasure  of  the  mind,  9,  in  reference,  1.  To  speculation,  10, 
on  the  account  of  the  greatness,  10,  and  newness  of  the  objects,  12.    2.  To 
practice,  12. 

II.  As  it  never  satiates  and  wearies,  13.     The  comparison  of  other  pleasures 
with  it ;  such  as  that  of  an  epicure,  13,  that  of  ambition,  15,  that  of  friendship 
and  conversation,  16. 

III.  As  it  is  in  nobody's  power,  but  only  in  his  that  has  it,  17,  which  property 
and  perpetuity  is  not  to  be  found  in  worldly  enjoyments,  17. 

A  consequence  is  drawn  against  the  absurd  austerities  of  the  Romish  profes 
sion,  18. 
A  short  description  of  the  religious  pleasure,  19. 

SERMON  II. 

OP  THE  CREATION  OF  MAN  IN  THE  IMAGE  OF  GOD. 

Genesis  i.  27.  —  So  God  created  man  in  his  own  image,  in  the  image  of  God  creo.ted  he 

him.    P.  23. 

The  several  false  opinions  of  the  heathen  philosophers  concerning  the  original 
of  the  world,  23. 

The  image  of  God  in  man  considered,  24. 

I.  Wherein  it  does  not  consist,  adequately  and  formally ;  not  in  power  and 
dominion,  as  the  Socinians  erroneously  assert,  24. 

II.  Wherein  it  does  consist :  1.  In  the  universal  rectitude  of  all  the  faculties 
of  the  soul,  25,  viz.  of  his  understanding,  26,  both  speculative,  26,  and  practical, 
28.    Of  his  will,  30.     Concerning  the  freedom  of  it,  30.     Of  his  passions,  31 ; 
love,  32,  hatred,  33,  anger,  33,  joy,  33,  sorrow,  34,  hope,  34,  fear,  34.    2.  In 
those  characters  of  majesty  that  God  imprinted  upon  his  body,  35. 

The  consideration  of  the  irreparable  loss  sustained  in  the  fall  of  our  first  par 
ents,  37,  and  of  the  excellency  of  Christian  religion,  designed  by  God  to  repair 
the  breaches  of  our  humanity,  38. 


xx  The  Chief  Heads  of  the  Sermons  in  Vol.  I. 

SERMON  HI. 

INTEREST  DEPOSED,  AND  TRUTH  RESTORED. 

Matthew  x.  33.  —  But  whosoever  shall  deny  me  before  men,  him  will  I  also  deny  before 
my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.     P.  42. 

The  occasion  of  those  words  inquired  into,  42,  and  their  explication,  by  being 
compared  with  other  parallel  scriptures,  44,  and  some  observations  deduced  from 
them,  44. 

The  explication  of  them,  by  showing, 

I.  How  many  ways  Christ  and  his  truths  may  be  denied,  45.    1.  By  an  heret 
ical  judgment,  46.     2.  By  oral  expressions,  47.     3.  By  our  actions,  48. 

What  denial  is  intended  by  these  words,  49. 

II.  The  causes  inducing  men  to  deny  Christ  in  his  truths,  50.     1.  The  seem 
ing  absurdity  of  many  truths,  50.    2.  Their  unprofitableness,  51.    3.  Their  ap 
parent  danger,  53. 

III.  How  far  a  man  may  consult  his  safety  in  time  of  persecution,  without 
denying  Christ,  54.     1.  By  withdrawing  his  person,  54.    2.  By  concealing  Ids' 
judgment,  55. 

When  those  ways  of  securing  ourselves  are  not  lawful,  55. 

JY.  What  is  meant  by  Christ's  denial  of  us,  67,  with  reference,  1.  To  the 
action  itself,  57.  2.  To  its  circumstances,  58. 

V.  How  many  uses  may  be  drawn  from  the  words,  59.  1.  An  exhortation 
chiefly  to  persons  in  authority,  to  defend  Christ  in  his  truth,  59,  and  in  his  mem 
bers,  60.  2.  An  information,  to  show  us  the  danger  as  well  as  baseness  of  de 
nying  Christ,  61. 

SERMON  IV. 

RELIGION   THE   BEST   REASON   OF   STATE. 

1  Kings  xiii.  33,  34.  —  After  this  thing  king  Jeroboam  returned  not  from  his  evil  way, 
but  made  again  of  the  lowest  of  the  people  priests  of  the  high  places :  whosoever  would, 
he  consecrated  him,  and  he  became  one  of  the  priests  of  the  high  places.  And  this 
thing  became  sin  unto  the  house  of  Jeroboam,  even  to  cut  it  off",  and  to  destroy  it  from 
off  the  face  of  the  earth.  P.  63. 

Jeroboam's  history  and  practice,  63.     Some  observations  from  it,  66.     An 
explication  of  the  words  high  places,  66,  and  consecration,  67. 
The  sense  of  the  words  drawn  into  two  propositions,  67. 

I.  The  means  to  strengthen  or  to  ruin  the  civil  power,  is  either  to  establish 
or  destroy  the  right  worship  of  God,  67.     Of  which  proposition  the  truth  is 
proved  by  all  records  of  divine  and  profane  history,  68,  and  the  reason  is  drawn 
from  the  judicial  proceeding  of  God ;  and  from  the  dependence  of  the  principles 
of  government  upon  religion,  68. 

From  which  may  be  inferred,  1.  The  pestilential  design  of  disjoining  the  civil 
and  ecclesiastical  interest,  73.  2.  The  danger  of  any  thing  that  may  make  even 
the  true  religion  suspected  to  be  false,  75. 

II.  The  way  to  destroy  religion  is  to  embase  the  dispensers  of  it,  76,  which  is 
done,   1.  By  divesting  them  of  all  temporal  privileges  and  advantages,  76. 
2.  By  admitting  unworthy  persons  to  this  function,  79.    By  which  means, 


The  Chief  Heads  of  the  Sermons  in  Vol.  I.  xxi 

1st,  ministers  are  brought  under  contempt,  82.    2dly,  Men  of  fit  parts  and  abili 
ties  are  discouraged  from  undertaking  the  ministry,  84. 
A  brief  recapitulation  of  the  whole,  86. 


SERMON  V. 

THE   DUTIES   OF   THE   EPISCOPAL   FUNCTIONS. 

Titus  ii.  15.  —  These  things  speak,  and  exhort,  and  rebuke  with  all  authority.     Let  no 
man  despise  thee.     P.  89. 

Titus  supposed  to  be  a  bishop  in  all  this  epistle,  89.  The  duties  of  which 
place  are, 

I.  To  teach,  91,  either  immediately  by  himself,  93,  or  mediately  by  the  subor 
dinate  ministration  of  others,  94. 

II.  To  rule,  94,  by  an  exaction  of  duty  from  persons  under  him,  95,  by  a 
protection  of  the  persons  under  the  discharge  of  their  duty,  96,  and  by  animad- 
rersion  upon  such  as  neglect  it,  96. 

And  the  means  better  to  execute  those  duties  is,  not  to  be  despised,  90,  98,  in 
the  handling  of  which  prescription  these  things  may  be  observed  : 

1.  The  ill  effects  that  contempt  has  upon  government,  98.  2.  The  causes 
upon  which  church  rulers  are  frequently  despised,  100.  And  they  are 

Either  groundless ;  such  as  their  very  profession  itself,  101,  loss  of  their  for 
mer  grandeur  and  privilege,  102. 

Or  just ;  such  as  ignorance,  103,  viciousness,  103,  fearfulness,  104,  and  a 
proneness  to  despise  others,  105. 

The  character  of  a  clergyman,  106. 


SERMON  VI. 
WHY  CHRIST'S  DOCTRINE  WAS  REJECTED  BY  THE  JEWS. 

John  vii.  17.  —  If  any  man  will  do  his  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be 
of  God,  or  whether  I  speak  of  myself,     P.  107. 

An  account  of  the  Jewish  and  Christian  economy,  107. 

The  gospel  must  meet  with  a  rightly  disposed  will,  before  it  can  gain  the 
assent  of  the  understanding,  108,  which  will  appear  from  the  following  con 
siderations  : 

I.  What  Christ's  doctrine  is,  with  relation  to  matters  of  belief,  109,  and  to 
matters  of  practice,  109. 

II.  That  men's  unbelief  of  that  doctrine  was  from  no  defect  in  the  arguments, 
111,  whose  strength  was  sufficient,  from  the  completion  of  all  the  predictions, 
111,  and  the  authority  of  miracles,  112.     And  whose  insufficiency  (if  there 
could  have  been  any)  was  not  the  cause  of  the  unbelief  of  the  Jews,  113,  who 
assented  to  things  less  evident,  113,  neither  evident  nor  certain,  but  only  prob 
able,  114,  neither  evident,  not  certain,  nor  probable,  but  false  and  fallacious,  114. 

III.  That  the  Jewish  unbelief  proceeded  from  the  pravity  of  the  will  influenc 
ing  the  understanding  to  a  disbelief  of  Christianity,  115,  the  last  being  prepos 
sessed  with  other  notions,  and  the  first  being  wholly  governed  by  covetousness 
and  ambition,  115. 

IV.  That  a  well-disposed  mind,  with  a  readiness  to  obey  the  will  of  God,  is 


xxii          The  Chief  Heads  of  the  Sermons  in  Vol.  I. 

the  best  means  to  enlighten  the  understanding  to  a  belief  of  Christianity,  117, 
upon  the  account  both  of  God's  goodness,  117,  and  of  a  natural  efficiency,  119, 
arising  from  a  right  disposition  of  the  will,  which  will  engage  the  understanding 
in  the  search  of  the  truth  through  diligence,  119,  and  impartiality,  120. 

From  which  particulars  may  be  learned,  1.  The  true  cause  of  atheism  and 
skepticism,  122.    2.  The  most  effectual  means  of  becoming  good  Christians,  124. 


SERMON  VII. 

GOD'S   PECULIAR  REGARD   TO   PLACES   SET   APART   FOR  DIVINE   WORSHIP. 

Psalm  Ixxxvii.  2.  —  God  hath  loved  the  gates  of  Sion  more  than  all  the  dwellings  of 

Jacob.   P.  128. 

All  comparisons  import,  in  the  superior  part  of  them,  difference  and  preemi 
nence,  128,  and  so  from  the  comparison  of  this  text  arise  these  propositions  : 

I.  That  God  bears  a  different  respect  to  consecrated  places,  from  what  he 
bears  to  all  others,  128,  which  difference  he  shows,  1.  By  the  interposals  of  his 
providence  for  the  erecting  and  preserving  of  them,  128.   2.  By  his  punishments 
upon  the  violators  of  them,  131.     3.  Not  upon  the  account  of  any  inherent  sanc 
tity  in  the  things  themselves,  but  because  he  has  the  sole  property  of  them,  136, 
by  appropriating  them  to  his  peculiar  use,  136,  and  by  deed  of  gift  made  by  sur 
render  on  man's  part,  137,  and  by  acceptance  on  his,  138. 

II.  That  God  prefers  the  worship  paid  to  him  in  such  places  above  that  in 
all  others,  141,  because,  1.  Such  places  are  naturally  apt  to  excite  a  greater  de 
votion,  141.    2.  In  them  our  worship  is  a  more  direct  service  and  homage  to 
him,  143. 

From  all  which  we  are  taught  to  have  these  three  ingredients  in'  our  devo 
tion  :  desire,  reverence,  and  confidence,  145. 


SERMON  VIII. 

ALL  CONTINGENCIES   UNDER   THE   DIRECTION   OP   GOD*S   PROVIDENCE. 

Prov.  xvi.  33.  —  The  lot  is  cast  into  the  lap ;  but  the  whole  disposing  of  it  is  of  the 

Lord.    P.  147. 

God's  providence  has  its  influence  upon  all  things,  even  the  most  fortuitous, 
such  as  the  casting  of  lots,  147.  Which  things,  implying  in  themselves  some 
what  future  and  somewhat  contingent,  are, 

I.  In  reference  to  men,  out  of  the  reach  of  their  knowledge  and  of  their  power, 
148. 

II.  In  reference  to  God,  comprehended  by  a  certain  knowledge,  149,  and 
governed  by  as  certain  a  providence,  150,  and  by  him  directed  to  both  certain, 
150,  and  great  ends,  152  5  in  reference, 

1.  To  societies,  or  united  bodies  of  men,  152.  2.  To  particular  persons, 
whether  public,  as  princes,  157,  or  private,  touching  their  lives,  158,  health, 
159,  reputation,  159,  friendships,  161,  employments,  162. 

Therefore  we  ought  to  rely  on  divine  Providence;  and  be  neither  too  con 
fident  in  prosperity,  164,  nor  too  despondent  in  adversity,  166  ;  but  carry  a  con 
science  clear  towards  God,  who  is  the  sole  and  absolute  disposer  of  all  things, 
166. 


The  Chief  Heads  of  the  Sermons  in  Vol.  I.         xxiii 
SERMON  IX. 

THE   WISDOM   OF   THIS   WORLD. 

1  Cor.  iii.  19.  — For  the  wisdom  of  this  world  is  foolishness  with  God.     P.  168. 

Worldly  wisdom,  in  scripture,  is  taken  sometimes  for  philosophy,  168,  some 
times,  as  here,  for  policy,  168,  which, 

I.  Governs  its  actions  generally  by  these  rules,  169.     1.  By  a  constant  dis 
simulation  ;  not  a  bare  concealment  of  one's  mind  ;  but  a  man's  positive  pro 
fessing  what  he  is  not,  and  resolves  not  to  be,  170.    2.  By  submitting  conscience 
and  religion  to  one's  interest,  172.     3.  By  making  one's  self  the  sole  end  of  all 
actions,  174.    4.  By  having  no  respect  to  friendship,  gratitude,  or  sense  of 
honor,  175. 

Which  rules  and  principles  are, 

II.  Foolish  and  absurd  in  reference  to  God,  177,  because  in  the  pursuit  of  them 
man  pitches,  1.  Upon  an  end,  unproportionable,  177,  to  the  measure  of  his  dura 
tion,  177,  or  to  the  vastness  of  his  desires,  178.     2.  Upon  means  in  themselves 
insufficient  for,  180,  and  frequently  contrary  to  the  attaining  of  such  ends,  181, 
which  is  proved  to  happen  in  the  four  foregoing  rules  of  the  worldly  politician, 
182. 

Therefore  we  ought  to  be  sincere,  186,  and  commit  our  persons  and  concerns 
to  the  wise  and  good  providence  of  God,  187. 

SERMON  X. 

GOOD   INCLINATIONS   NO   EXCUSE   FOR   BAD   ACTIONS. 

2  Cor.  viii.  12.  —  For  if  there  be  first  a  witting  mind,  it  is  accepted  according  to  that  a 
man  hath,  and  not  according  to  that  he  hath  not.     P.  188. 

Men  are  apt  to  abuse  the  world  and  themselves  in  some  general  principles  of 
action ;  and  particularly  in  this,  That  God  accepts  the  will  for  the  deed,  188. 
The  delusion  of  which  is  laid  open  in  these  words,  189,  expressing,  that  where 
there  is  no  power,  God  accepts  the  will ;  but  implying,  that  where  there  is,  he 
does  not.  So  there  is  nothing  of  so  fatal  an  import  as  the  plea  of  a  good  inten 
tion,  and  of  a  good  will,  190 ;  for  God  requires  the  obedience  of  the  whole  man, 
and  never  accepts  the  will  but  as  such,  192.  Thence  we  may  understand  how 
far  it  holds  good,  that  God  accepts  the  will  for  the  deed,  194 ;  a  rule  whose 

I.  Ground  is  founded  upon  that  eternal  truth,  that  God  requires  of  man  noth 
ing  impossible,  194 ;  and  consequently  whose 

II.  Bounds  are  determined  by  what  power  man  naturally  hath,  194  ;  but  whose 

III.  Misapplication  consists  in  these,  194.     1.  That  men  often  mistake  for  an 
act  of  the  will  what  really  is  not  so,  194 ;  as  a  bare  approbation,  194,  wishing, 
195,  mere  inclination,   197.      2.  That   men  mistake  for  impossibilities  things 
which  are  not  truly  so,  198 ;  as  in  duties  of  very  great  labor,  198,  danger,  199, 
cost,  203,  in  conquering  an  inveterate  habit,  207. 

Therefore  there  is  not  a  weightier  case  of  conscience  than  to  know  how  far 
God  accepts  the  will,  and  when  men  truly  will  a  thing,  and  have  really  no 
power,  209. 


xxiv          The  Chief  Heads  of  the  Sermons  in   Vol.  1. 


SERMON  XL 

OF   THE   ODIOUS   SIN   OF   INGRATITUDE. 

Judges  viii.  34,  35.  —  And  the  children  of  Israel  remembered  not  the  Lord  their  God, 
who  had  delivered  them  out  of  the  hands  of  all  their  enemies  on  every  side:  neither 
shewed  they  kindness  to  the  house  of  Jerubbaal,  namely  Gideon,  according  to  all  the 
goodness  which  he  had  shewed  unto  Israel.  P.  210. 

The  history  of  Gideon,  and  the  Israelites'  behavior  towards  him,  210,  are  the 
subject  and  occasion  of  these  words,  which  treat  of  their  ingratitude  both  towards 
God  and  man,  212.  This  vice  in  this  latter  sense  is  described,  212,  by  showing, 

I.  What  gratitude  is,  212;  what  are  its  parts,  213;  what  grounds  it  hath  in 
the  law  of  nature,  213.     Of  God's  word,  216.     Of  man,  216. 

II.  The  nature  and  baseness  of  ingratitude,  218. 

III.  That  ingratitude  proceeds  from  a  proneness  to  do  ill  turns  with  a  com 
placency  upon  the  sight  of  any  mischief  befalling  another ;  and  from  an  utter 
insensibility  of  all  kindnesses,  221. 

,     IV.  That  it  is  always  attended  with  many  other  ill  qualities,  222 ;  pride,  222, 
hard-heartedness,  224,  and  falsehood,  226.    Therefore, 

V.  What  consequences  may  be  drawn  from  the  premises,  226.  1.  Never  to 
enter  into  a  league  of  friendship  with  an  ungrateful  person,  226,  because,  2.  he 
cannot  be  altered  by  any  acts  of  kindness,  227,  and,  3.  he  has  no  true  sense  of 
religion,  228.  Exhortation  to  gratitude  as  a  debt  to  God,  229. 

SERMON  XII. 

OF   THE   BASE   SINS   OF  FALSEHOOD   AND    LYING. 
» 

Prov.  xii.  22.  —  Lying  lips  are  abomination  to  the  Lord.     P.  230. 

The  universality  of  lying  is  described,  230.  And  this  vice  is  further  prose 
cuted,  by  showing, 

I.  The  nature  of  it,  232 ;  wherein  it  consists,  232 ;  and  the  unlawfulness  of  all 
sorts  of  lies,  whether  pernicious,  officious,  or  jocose,  233. 

II.  The  effects  of  it,  236  :  all  sins  that  came  into  the  world,  236 ;  all  miseries 
that  befall  mankind,  237  ;  an  utter  dissolution  of  all  society,  240 ;  an  indisposition 
to  the  impressions  of  religion,  242. 

III.  The  punishments  of  it :  the  loss  of  all  credit,  244 ;  the  hatred  of  all  whom 
the  liar  has  or  would  have  deceived,  245 ;  and  an  eternal  separation  from  God, 
248. 

All  which  particulars  are  briefly  summed  up,  249. 

SERMON  XIII. 

THE   PRACTICE   OF  RELIGION   ENFORCED   BY   REASON. 

Prov.  x.  9.  —  He  that  walketh  uprightly  walketh  surely.     P.  254. 

The  life  of  man  is  in  scripture  expressed  by  walking ;  which  to  do  surely, 
great  caution  must  be  taken  not  to  lay  down  false  principles,  or  mistake  in  con 
sequences  from  right  ones,  254 ;  but  to  walk  uprightly,  under  the  notion  of  an 
infinite  mind  governing  the  world,  and  an  expectation  of  another  state  hereafter, 


The  Chief  Heads  of  the  Sermons  in  Vol.  I.         xxv 

255.    Which  two  principles  will  secure  us  in  all  our  actions,  whether  they  be 
considered, 

I.  As  true,  255,  the  folly  of  a  sinner  presuming  upon  God's  mercy,  257,  or 
relying  upon  a  future  repentance,  259  ;  or  whether  supposed, 

II.  As  only  probable,  260.    No  man,  in  most  temporal  concerns,  acts  upon 
surer  grounds  than  of  probability,  261.     And  self-preservation  will  oblige  a  man 
to  undergo  a  lesser  evil  to  secure  himself  from  the  probability  of  a  greater,  262. 
Probability  supposes  that  a  thing  may  or  may.  not  be  ;  both  which  are  examined 
with  relation  to  a  future  state,  263. 

III.  As  false,  265.     Under  this  supposition  the  virtuous  walketh  more  surely 
than  the  wicked,  with  reference  to  temporal  enjoyments  :  reputation,  265,  quiet 
ness,  267,  health,  268.     Answer  to  an  objection,  that  many  sinners  enjoy  all 
these,  270. 

Thence  we  may  perceive  the  folly  of  atheistical  persons,  271,  and  learn  to 
walk  uprightly,  as  the  best  ground  for  our  present  and  future  happiness,  274. 


SERMON  XIV. 

OP   THE   LOVE   OP   CHRIST   TO   HIS    DISCIPLES. 

John  xv.  15. — Henceforth  1  call  you  not  servants;  for  the  servant  knoweth  not  what 
his  lord  doeth :  but  I  have  called  you  friends ;  for  all  things  that  1  have  heard  of  my 
Father  have  1  made  known  unto  you.  P.  275. 

The  superlative  love  of  Christ  appears  in  the  several  degrees  of  his  kindness 
to  man,  before  he  was  created,  275,  when  created,  276,  when  fallen,  276 ;  whom 
even  he  not  only  spared,  but,  from  the  number  of  subjects,  took  into  the  retinue 
of  his  servants,  and  further  advanced  to  the  privilege  of  a  friend,  277.  The  dif 
ference  between  which  two  appellations  is  this  : 

I.  That  a  servant  is,  for  the  most  part,  1.  unacquainted  with  his   master's 
designs,  278 ;    2.  restrained  with  a  degenerous  awe  of  mind,  279 ;    3.  endued 
with  a  mercenary  disposition,  279. 

II.  That  a  friend  is  blessed  with  many  privileges  ;  as,  1.  Freedom  of  access, 
280.     2.  Favorable  construction  of  all  passages,  281.     3.  Sympathy  in  joy  and 
grief,  284.     4.  Communication  of  secrets,  285.      5.  Counsel  and  advice,  287. 
6.  Constancy  and  perpetuity,  289. 

In  every  one  of  which  particulars,  the  excellency  of  Christ's  friendship  shining 
forth,  291,  we  may  learn  the  high  advantage  of  true  piety,  292. 

SERMONS  XV.  XVI. 

AGAINST  LONG  EXTEMPORE  PRATERS. 

ECCLES.  v.  2.  —  Be  not  rash  with  thy  mouth,  and  let  not  thine  heart  be  hasty  to  utter 
any  thing  before  God :  for  God  is  in  heaven,  and  thou  upon  earth :  therefore  let  thy 
words  be  few.  P.  295. 

Solomon  having  been  spoken  to  by  God  himself,  and  so  the  fittest  to  teach  us 
how  to  speak  to  God,  here  observes  to  us,  that  when  we  are  in  God's  house,  we 
are  more  especially  in  his  presence ;  that  this  ought  to  create  a  reverence  in 
our  addresses  to  him,  and  that  this  reverence  consists  in  the  preparation  of  our 
thoughts  and  the  government  of  our  expressions,  295,  the  two  great  joint  ingre 
dients  of  prayer,  302.  Of  which, 


xxvi         The  Chief  Heads  of  the  Sermons  in  Vol.  I. 

The  first  is  premeditation  of  thought,  296,  302,  303. 

The  second  is,  ordering  of  our  words  by  pertinence  and  brevity  of  expression, 
296. 

Because  prayer  prevails  upon  God, 

Not,  as  it  does  with  men,  by  way  of  information,  296,  persuasion,  296,  impor 
tunity,  297.  An  objection  to  this  last  is  answered,  301. 

But  as  it  is  the  fulfilling  of  that  condition  upon  which  God  dispenseth  his 
blessings  to  mankind,  298.  An  objection  to  this  is  removed,  298. 

As  it  is  most  properly  an  act  of  dependence  upon  God,  300,  a  dependence 
not  natural,  but  moral ;  for  else  it  would  belong  indifferently  to  the  wicked  as 
well  as  to  the  just,  300. 

I.  Premeditation  ought  to  respect :  1.  The  object  of  our  prayers  :  God  and  his 
divine  perfections,  303.    2.  The  matter  of  our  prayers,  305 :  either  things  of 
absolute  necessity,  as  the  virtues  of  a  pious  life ;  or  of  unquestionable  charity, 
as  the  innocent  comforts  of  it,  305.    3.  The  order  and  disposition  of  our  prayers, 
306  :  by  excluding  every  thing  which  may  seem  irreverent,  incoherent,  and  im 
pertinent  ;  absurd  and  irrational,  307  ;  rude,  slight,  and  careless,  307. 

Therefore  all  Christian  churches  have  governed  their  public  worship  by  a 
liturgy,  or  set  form  of  prayer,  308.  Which  way  of  praying  is  truly, 

To  pray  by  the  Spirit ;  that  is,  with  the  heart,  not  hypocritically ;  and  accord 
ing  to  the  rules  prescribed  by  God's  holy  Spirit,  not  unwarrantably,  or  by  a  pre 
tense  to  immediate  inspiration,  309. 

Not  to  stint,  but  help  and  enlarge  the  spirit  of  prayer,  311 ;  for  the  soul  being 
of  a  limited  nature,  can  not  at  the  same  time  supply  two  distinct  faculties  to  the 
same  height  of  operation ;  words  are  the  work  of  the  brain ;  and  devotion, 
properly  the  business  of  the  heart,  indispensably  required  in  prayer,  311. 

Whereas,  on  the  contrary, 

Extempore  prayers  stint  the  spirit,  by  calling  off  the  faculties  of  the  soul 
from  dealing  with  the  heart  both  in  the  minister  and  in  the  people,  311,  312. 
And  besides, 

They  are  prone  to  encourage  pride  and  ostentation,  313,  faction  and  sedition, 
314. 

II.  Brevity  of  expression,  the  greatest  perfection  of  speech,  316 ;  authorized 
by  both  divine,  317,  and  human  examples,  317  ;  suited  best  to  the  modesty,  320, 
discretion,  320,  and  respect  required  in  all  suppliants,  321 ;  is  still  further  en 
forced  in  our  addresses  to  God  by  these  arguments,  321.    1.  That  all  the  reasons 
for  prolixity  of  speech  with  men  cease  to  be  so  when  we  pray  to  God,  322.    2. 
That  there  are  but  few  things  necessary  to  be  prayed  for,  326.     3.  That  the  per 
son  who  prays  can  not  keep  up  the  same  fervor  and  attention  in  a  long  as  in  a 
short  prayer,  327.    4.  That  shortness  of  speech  is  the  most  natural  and  lively 
way  of  expressing  the  utmost  agonies  of  the  soul,  329.     5.  That  we  have  exam 
ples  in  scripture,  both  of  brevity  and  prolixity  of  speech  in  prayer,  as  of  brevity 
in  the  Lord's  Prayer,  330 ;  the  practice  of  it  in  our  Saviour  himself,  330 ;  the 
success  of  it  in  several  instances  ;  as  of  the  leper,  of  the  blind  man,  and  of  the 
publican,  331.     Whereas  the  heathens  and  the  pharisees,  the  grand  instances  of 
idolatry  and  hypocrisy,  are  noted  for  prolixity,  332. 

By  these  rules  we  may  judge,  1.  of  our  church's  excellent  liturgy;  for  its 
brevity  and  fullness,  for  the  frequent  opportunity  of  mentioning  the  name  and 
some  great  attribute  of  God ;  for  its  alternate  responses,  which  thing  properly 
denominates  it  a  Book  of  Common-Prayer,  334 ;  for  appointing  even  a  form  of 
prayer  before  sermons,  334.  2.  Of  the  dissenters'  prayers,  always  notable  for 
length  and  tautology,  incoherence  and  confusion,  335 ; 


The  Chief  Heads  of  the  Sermons  in  Vol.  I.        xxvii 

And,  after  this  comparison,  pronounce  our  liturgy  the  greatest  treasure  of 
rational  devotion;  and  pray  God  would  vouchsafe  long  to  continue  to  us  the 
use  of  it,  337. 

SERMONS  XVII.  XVIII. 

OF   THE   HEINOUS   GUILT  OF   TAKING   PLEASURE    IN   OTHER  MEN*S    SINS. 

Romans  i.  32.  — Who  knowing  the  judgment  of  God,  that  they  which  commit  such  things 
are  worthy  of  death,  not  only  do  the  same,  but  have  pleasure  in  them  that  do  them. 
Pp.  338,  358. 

The  sin  of  taking  pleasure  in  other  men's  sins  is  not  only  distinct  from,  but 
also  much  greater  than  all  those  others  mentioned  in  the  foregoing  catalogue, 
338.  To  arrive  at  which  pitch  of  sinning  there  is  a  considerable  difficulty, 
342,  because  every  man  has  naturally  a  distinguishing  sense  of  good  and  evil, 
and  an  inward  satisfaction  or  dissatisfaction  after  the  doing  of  either,  and  can 
not  quickly  or  easily  extinguish  this  principle,  but  by  another  inferior  principle 
gratified  with  objects  contrary  to  the  former,  340.  And  consequently  no  man  is 
quickly  or  easily  brought  to  take  pleasure  in  his  own,  much  less  in  other  men's 
Bins,  341.  Of  which  sin, 

I.  The  causes  are  :  1.  The  commission  of  the  same  sins  in  one's  own  person, 
842.     2.  The  commission  of  them  against  the  full  conviction  of  conscience,  344. 
8.  The  continuance  in  them,  346.    4.  The  inseparable  poor-spiritedness  of  guilt, 
which  is  less  uneasy  in  company,  348.     5.  A  peculiar  unaccountable  malignity 
of  nature,  349. 

II.  The  reasons  why  the  guilt  of  that  sin  is  so  great,  are :  1.  That  there  is 
naturally  no  motive  to  tempt  men  to  it,  352.     2.  That  the  nature  of  this  sin  is 
boundless  and  unlimited,  355.     3.  That  this  sin  includes  in  it  the  guilt  of  many 
preceding  ones,  356. 

III.  The  persons  guilty  of  that  sin  are  generally  such  as  draw  others  to  it, 
358 ;   particularly,  1.  who  teach  doctrines,  358,  which  represent  sinful  actions 
either  as  not  sinful,  359,  or  as  less  sinful,  than  they  really  are,  361.     Censure  of 
Borne  modern  casuists,  362.  2.  Who  allure  men  to  sin  through  formal  persuasion 
or  inflaming  objects,  363.     3.  Who  affect  the  company  of  vicious  persons,  365. 
4.  Who  encourage  others  in  their  sins  by  commendation,  366,  or  preferment, 
867. 

Lastly,  the  effects  of  this  sin  are  :  Upon  particular  persons ;  that  it  quite  de 
praves  the  natural  frame  of  the  heart,  368  :  it  indisposes  a  man  to  repent  of  it, 
869  ;  it  grows  the  more  as  a  man  lives  longer,  370 ;  it  will  damn  more  surely, 
because  many  are  damned  who  never  arrived  to  this  pitch,  372.  2.  Upon  com 
munities  of  men ;  that  it  propagates  the  practice  of  any  sin  till  it  becomes  na 
tional,  372 ;  especially  where  great  sinners  make  their  dependants  their  prose 
lytes,  373,  and  the  follies  of  the  young  carry  with  them  the  approbation  of  the 
old,  374.  This  the  reason  of  the  late  increase  of  vice,  374. 

SERMON  XIX. 

HA.TURAL  RELIGION  WITHOUT  REVELATION,  SUFFICIENT   TO   RENDER  A   SINNER 

INEXCUSABLE. 

Romans  i.  20.  —  So  that  they  are  urithout  excuse.    P.  376. 

The  apostle  in  this  epistle  addresses  himself  chiefly  to  the  Jews  ;  but  in  this 
first  chapter  he  deals  with  the  Greeks  and  Gentiles,  376,  whom  he  charges  with 


xxviii       The  Chief  Heads  of  the  Sermons  in  Vol.  I. 

an  inexcusable  sinfulness,  376.    And  the  charge  contains  in  this,  and  in  the 
precedent  and  subsequent  verses, 

I.  The  sin ;  [that  knowing  God,  they  did  not  glorify  him  as  God,  ver.  21 ;]  idola 
try  ;  not  that  kind  of  one  which  worships  that  for  God  which  is  not  God ;  but 
the  other,  which  worships  the  true  God  by  the  mediation  of  corporeal  resem 
blances,  377. 

II.  The  persons  guilty  of  this  sin ;  [such  as  professed  themselves  wise,  ver.  22 ;] 
not  the  Gnostics,  but  the  old  heathen  philosophers,  379. 

III.  The  cause  of  that  sin,  [holding  the  truth  in  unrighteousness,  rer.  18 ;]  381, 
that  the  truths  which  they  were  accountable  for,  viz.  1.  The  being  of  a  God, 
381.    2.  That  he  is  the  maker  and  governor  of  the  world,  381.     3.  That  he  is 
to  be  worshiped,  382.    4.  That  he  is  to  be  worshiped  by  pious  practices,  382. 
5.  That  every  deviation  from  duty  is  to  be  repented  of,  382.    6.  That  every 
guilty  person  is  obnoxious  to  punishment,  382, 

Were  by  them  held  in  unrighteousness,  1.  By  not  acting  up  to  what  they 
knew,  383.  2.  By  not  improving  those  known  principles  into  proper  conse 
quences,  384.  3.  By  concealing  what  they  knew,  385. 

IV.  The  judgment  passed  upon  them,  [that  they  were  without  excuse,  ver.  20,] 
388,  that  they  were  unfit  not  only  for  a  pardon,  but  even  for  a  plea,  389.    Be 
cause, 

1.  The  freedom  of  the  will,  which  they  generally  asserted,  excluded  them 
from  the  plea  of  unwillingness,  390.  2.  The  knowledge  of  their  understanding 
excluded  them  from  the  plea  of  ignorance,  390. 

From  all  these  we  may  consider, 

1.  The  great  mercy  of  God  in  the  revelation  of  the  gospel,  392. 

2.  The  deplorable  condition  of  obstinate  sinners  under  it,  393. 


SERMON  XX. 

OP   SACRAMENTAL  PREPARATION. 

Matthew  xxii.  12.  —  And  he  saith  unto  him,  Friend,  how  earnest  thou  in  hither,  not 
having  a  wedding -garment  ?    P.  395. 

•  The  design  of  this  parable,  under  the  circumstantial  passages  of  a  wedding's 
royal  solemnity,  is  to  set  forth  the  free  offer  of  the  gospel  to  the  Jews  first,  and 
upon  their  refusal,  to  the  Gentiles,  396.  But  it  may  be  more  peculiarly  applied 
to  the  holy  eucharist ;  which  not  only  by  analogy,  but  with  propriety  of  speech, 
and  from  the  very  ceremony  of  breaking  bread,  may  very  well  be  called  a  wed 
ding-supper,  397 ;  to  the  worthy  participation  whereof  there  is  indispensably 
required  a  suitable  and  sufficient  preparation,  398.  In  which  these  conditions 
are  required  : 

L  I.  That  the  preparation  be  habitual,  402. 

II.  That  it  be  also  actual,  404 ;  of  which  the  principal  ingredients  are  :  l.; 
Self-examination,  406.  2.  Repentance,  408.  3.  Prayer,  409.  4.  Fasting,  410. 
5.  Almsgiving,  411.  6.  Charitable  temper  of  mind,  412.  7.  Reading  and  med- 
ijation,  414.  .., 

'  The  reverend  author  seemed  to  have  designed  another  discourse  upon  this 
text,  because  in  this  sermon  he  only  dispatches  the  first  part,  viz.  the  necessity 
of  preparation ;  but  proceeds  not  to  the  second,  viz.  that  God  is  a  severe  ani- 
madverter  upon  such  as  partake  without  such  a  preparation,  398. 


The  Chief  Heads  of  the  Sermons  in  Vol.  I.         xxix 
SERMON  XXI. 

OP   THE   FATAL   IMPOSTURE   AND   FORCE   OF   WORDS. 

Isaiah  v.  20.  —  Woe  unto  them  that  call  evil  good,  and  good  evil.     P.  416 

Here  a  woe  is  denounced  against  those,  not  only  in  particular,  who  judicially 
pronounce  the  guilty  innocent,  and  the  innocent  guilty  ;  but  in  general,  who 
by  abusing  men's  minds  with  false  notions,  make  evil  pass  for  good,  and  good 
for  evil,  416.  And  in  the  examination  of  this  vile  practice  it  will  be  necessary, 

I.  To  examine  the  nature  of  good  and  evil,  what  they  are,  and  upon  what 
they  are  founded,  viz.  upon  the  conformity  or  unconformity  to  right  reason,  418. 
Not  upon  the  opinion,  419,  or  laws  of  men,  419 ;  because  then,  1.  The  same 
action  under  the  same  circumstances  might  be  both  morally  good  and  morally 
evil,  419.    2.  The  laws  could  neither  be  morally  good  nor  evil,  423.     The  same 
action  might  be  in  respect  of  the  divine  law  commanding  it,  morally  good ; 
and  of  an  human,  forbidding  it,  morally  evil,  423. 

But  that  the  nature  of  good  and  evil  is  founded  upon  a.  jus  naturale,  antecedent 
to  all  jus  positivum,  may  be  exemplified  in  those  two  moral  duties,  towards  God 
and  towards  one's  neighbor,  424. 

II.  To  show  the  way  how  good  and  evil  operate  upon  men's  minds,  viz.  by 
their  respective  names  or  appellations,  425. 

III.  To  show  the  mischief  arising  from  the  misapplication  of  names,  426. 
For  since,  l.the  generality  of  men  are  absolutely  governed  by  words  and  names, 
426,  and  2.  chiefly  in  matters  of  good  and  evil,  431,  which  are  commonly  taken 
upon  trust,  by  reason  of  the  frequent  affinity  between  vice  and  virtue,  431,  and 
of  most  men's  inability  to  judge  exactly  of  things,  432.     Thence  may  be  in 
ferred  the  comprehensive  mischief  of  this  misapplication,  by  which  man  is 
either,  1.  deceived,  434,  or  2.  misrepresented,  435. 

SERMON  XXII. 

PREVENTION   OF   SIN   AN   INVALUABLE   MERCY. 

1  Samuel  xxv.  32,  33.— And  David  said  to  Abigail,  Blessed  be  the  Lord  God  of  Israel, 
which  sent  thee  this  day  to  meet  me:  and 'blessed  be  thy  advice,  and  blessed  be  thou, 
it'hich  hast  kept  me  this  day  from  coming  to  shed  blood,  and  from  avenging  myself 
with  my  own  hand.  P.  438. 

This  is  David's  retractation  of  his  revenge  resolved  upon  an  insolent  wealthy 
rustic,  who  had  most  unthankfully  rejected  his  request  with  railing  at  his  person 
and  messengers,  438.  From  which  we  may, 

I.  Observe  the  greatness  of  sin-preventing  mercy,  440.  Which  appears,  1. 
From  the  deplorable  condition  of  the  sinner,  before  that  mercy  prevents  him, 
440.  2.  From  the  cause  of  that  mercy,  which  is  God's  free  grace,  443.  3. 
From  the  danger  of  sin  unprevented,  which  will  then  be  certainly  committed ; 
and  in  such  deliberate  commission  there  is  a  greater  probability  that  it  will 
not,  than  that  it  will  be  pardoned,  445,  because  every  commission  hardens  the 
soul  in  that  sin,  and  disposes  the  soul  to  proceed  further,  and  it  is  not  in  the 
sinner's  power  to  repent,  445.  4.  From  the  advantages  of  the  prevention  of  sin 
above  those  of  the  pardon  of  it,  447,  which  are  the  clearness  of  a  man's  condi 
tion,  447,  and  the  satisfaction  of  his  mind,  448. 


xxx          The  Chief  Heads  of  the  Sermons  in  Vol.  I. 

II.  Make  several  useful  applications,  449.  As,  1.  To  learn  how  vastly  greater 
the  pleasure  is  upon  the  forbearance,  than  in  the  commission  of  sin,  449.  2. 
To  find  out  the  disposition  of  one's  heart  by  this  sure  criterion,  with  what 
ecstasy  he  receives  a  spiritual  blessing,  450.  3.  To  be  content,  and  thankfully 
to  acquiesce  in  any  condition,  and  under  the  severest  passages  of  Providence, 
452,  with  relation  to  health,  452,  reputation,  452,  and  wealth,  453. 


SERMONS  XXIII.  XXIV. 

OP  THE  NATURE  AND  MEASURE  OF  CONSCIENCE. 

1  John  iii.  21.  —  Beloved,  if  our  heart  condemn  us  not,  we  have  confidence  towards  God. 

Pp.  456,  479. 

It  is  of  great  moment  and  difficulty  to  be  rationally  satisfied  about  the  estate 
of  one's  soul,  456 :  in  which  weighty  concern  we  ought  not  to  rely  upon  such 
uncertain  rules,  457,  as  these  :  1.  The  general  esteem  of  the  world,  457.  2. 
The  judgment  of  any  casuist,  458.  3.  The  absolution  of  any  priest,  460.  4. 
The  external  profession  even  of  a  true  religion,  461. 

But  a  man's  own  heart  and  conscience,  above  all  other  things,  is  able  to  give 
him  confidence  towards  God,  464.  In  order  to  which  we  must  know, 

I.  How  the  heart  or  conscience  ought  to  be  informed,  464,  viz.  by  right  reason 
and  scripture,  464,  and  endeavoring  to  employ  the  utmost  of  our  ability  to  get 
the  clearest  knowledge  of  our  duty ;  and  thus  to  come  to  that  confidence,  which, 
though  it  amounts  not  to  an  infallible  demonstration,  yet  is  a  rational,  well- 
grounded  hope,  466. 

II.  By  what  means  we  may  get  our  heart  thus  informed,  467,  viz.  :  1.  By  a 
careful  attention  to  the  dictates  of  reason  and  natural  morality,  467.    2.  By  a 
tender  regard  to  every  pious  motion  of  God's  Spirit,  469.     3.  By  a  study  of 
the  revealed  word  of  God,  471.  4.  By  keeping  a  frequent  and  impartial  account 
with  our  conscience,  473. 

With  this  caution,  lest  either,  on  the  one  side,  every  doubting  may  overthrow 
our  confidence,  475,  or,  on  the  other,  a  bare  silence  of  conscience  raise  it  too 
much,  476. 

III.  Whence  the  testimony  of  conscience  is  so  authentic,  479,  viz. :  1.  Be 
cause  it  is  commissioned  to  this  office  by  God  himself,  481.   And  there  is  ex 
amined  the  absurdity  and  impertinence,  482,  the  impudence  and  impiety  of 
false  pretenses  of  conscience,  488 ;   such  particularly  as  those  of  schismatical 
dissenters,  484,  489,  who  oppose  the  solemn  usages  of  our  church  ;  the  necessity 
of  which  is  founded  upon  sound  reason,  486.    2.  Because  it  is  quick-sighted, 
492,  tender  and  sensible,  493,  exactly  and  severely  impartial,  494. 

IV.  Some  particular  instances  wherein  this  confidence  suggested  by  con 
science  exerts  itself,  496,  viz.  1.  In  our  addresses  to  God  by  prayer,  494.    2.  At 
the  time  of  some  notable  sharp  trial,  497,  as  poverty,  498,  calumny  and  dis 
grace,  499.    3.  Above  all  others  at  the  time  of  death,  500. 


SERMONS. 


SERMON   I. 

PREACHED    BEFORE   THE    COURT   AT    CHRIST    CHURCH 
CHAPEL   IN    OXFORD. 


TO  THE  RIGHT  HONORABLE  EDWARD  EARL  OP  CLARENDON,  LORD  HIGH  CHAN 
CELLOR  OF  ENGLAND,  AND  CHANCELLOR  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  OXON,  AND 
ONE  OF  HIS  MAJESTY'S  MOST  HONORABLE  PRIVY  COUNCIL. 

MY  LORD, 

rpHOUGH  to  prefix  so  great  a  name  to  so  mean  a  piece  seems  like 
•*-  enlarging  the  entrance  of  an  house  that  affords  no  reception  ; 
yet  since  there  is  nothing  can  warrant  the  publication  of  it,  but  what 
can  also  command  it,  the  work  must  think  of  no  other  patronage  than 
the  same  that  adorns  and  protects  its  author.  Some  indeed  vouch 
great  names,  because  they  think  they  deserve  ;  but  I,  because  I  need 
such :  and  had  I  not  more  occasion  than  many  others  to  see  and 
converse  with  your  lordship's  candor  and  proneness  to  pardon,  there 
is  none  had  greater  cause  to  dread  your  judgment ;  and  thereby  in 
some  part  I  venture  to  commend  my  own.  For  all  know,  who  know 
your  lordship,  that  in  a  nobler  respect,  than  either  that  of  govern 
ment  or  patronage,  you  represent  and  head  the  best  of  universities  ; 
and  have  traveled  over  too  many  nations  and  authors  to  encourage 
any  one  that  understands  himself,  to  appear  an  author  in  your  hands, 
who  seldom  read  any  books  to  inform  yourself,  but  only  to  counte 
nance  and  credit  them.  But,  my  lord,  what  is  here  published  pre 
tends  no  instruction,  but  only  homage ;  while  it  teaches  many  of  the 
world,  it  only  describes  your  lordship,  who  have  made  the  ways  of 
labor  and  virtue,  of  doing,  and  doing  good,  your  business  and  your 
recreation,  your  meat  and  your  drink,  and,  I  may  add  also,  your  sleep. 
My  lord,  the  subject  here  treated  of  is  of  that  nature,  that  it  would 
seem  but  a  chimera,  and  a  bold  paradox,  did  it  not  in  the  very  front 

VOL.  I.  1 


2  Tlie  Ways  of  Wisdom  [SERM.  i. 

carry  an  instance  to  exemplify  it ;  and  so  by  the  dedication  convince 
the  world,  that  the  discourse  itself  was  not  impracticable.  For  such 
ever  was,  and  is,  and  will  be  the  temper  of  the  generality  of  mankind, 
that,  while  I  send  men  for  pleasure  to  religion,  I  can  not  but  expect, 
that  they  will  look  upon  me  as  only  having  a  mind  to  be  pleasant 
with  them  myself:  nor  are  men  to  be  worded  into  new  tempers  or 
constitutions :  and  he  that  thinks  that  any  one  can  persuade,  but  He 
that  made  the  world,  will  find  that  he  does  not  well  understand  it. 

My  lord,  I  have  obeyed  your  command,  for  such  must  I  account 
your  desire  ;  and  thereby  design,  not  so  much  the  publication  of  my 
sermon,  as  of  my  obedience :  for,  next  to  the  supreme  pleasure  de 
scribed  in  the  ensuing  discourse,  I  enjoy  none  greater,  than  in  having 
any  opportunity  to  declare  myself, 

Your  lordship's  very  humble  servant, 

and  obliged  chaplain, 

ROBERT   SOUTH. 


PROV.  iii.  17.  —  Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness. 

THE  text  relating  to  something  going  before,  must  carry 
our  eye  back  to  the  thirteenth  verse,  where  we  shall  find, 
that  the  thing,  of  which  these  words  are  affirmed,  is  wisdom : 
a  name  by  which  the  Spirit  of  God  was  here  pleased  to  express 
to  us  religion,  and  thereby  to  tell  the  world>  what  before  it 
was  not  aware  of,  and  perhaps  will  not  yet  believe,  that  those 
two  great  things  that  so  engross  the  desires  and  designs  of 
both  the  nobler  and  ignobler  sort  of  mankind,  are  to  be  found 
in  religion ;  namely,  wisdom  and  pleasure ;  and  that  the  for 
mer  is  the  direct  way  to  the  latter,  as  religion  is  to  both. 

That  pleasure  is  man's  chiefest  good,  (because  indeed  it  is 
the  perception  of  good  that  is  properly  pleasure,)  is  an  asser 
tion  most  certainly  true,  though  under  the  common  accept 
ance  of  it,  not  only  false,  but  odious :  for  according  to  this, 
pleasure  and  sensuality  pass  for  terms  equivalent ;  and  there 
fore  he  that  takes  it  in  this  sense,  alters  the  subject  of  the 
discourse.  Sensuality  is  indeed  a  part,  or  rather  one  kind 
of  pleasure,  such  an  one  as  it  is :  for  pleasure  in  general  is 
the  consequent  apprehension  of  a  suitable  object,  suitably 
applied  to  a  rightly  disposed  faculty;  and  so  must  be  con 
versant  both  about  the  faculties  of  the  body  and  of  the  soul 


PKOV.  iii.  17.]  are  Ways  of  Pleasantness.  3 

respectively  ;  as  being  the  result  of  the  fruitions  belonging  to 
both. 

Now  amongst  those  many  arguments  used  to  press  upon 
men  the  exercise  of  religion,  I  know  none  that  are  like  to  be 
so  successful  as  those  that  answer  and  remove  the  prejudices 
that  generally  possess  and  bar  up  the  hearts  of  men  against 
it :  amongst  which,  there  is  none  so  prevalent  in  truth, 
though  so  little  owned  in  pretense,  as  that  it  is  an  enemy  to 
men's  pleasures,  that  it  bereaves  them  of  all  the  sweets  of 
converse,  dooms  them  to  an  absurd  and  perpetual  melancholy, 
designing  to  make  the  world  nothing  else  but  a  great  mon 
astery.  With  which  notion  of  religion,  nature  and  reason 
seems  to  have  great  cause  to  be  dissatisfied.  For  since  God 
never  created  any  faculty,  either  in  soul  or  body,  but  withal 
prepared  for  it  a  suitable  object,  and  that  in  order  to  its  grat 
ification  ;  can  we  think  that  religion  was  designed  only  for 
a  contradiction  to  nature?  and  with  the  greatest  and  most 
irrational  tyranny  in  the  world  to  tantalize  and  tie  men  up 
from  enjoyment,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  opportunities  of  en 
joyment  ?  To  place  men  with  the  furious  affections  of  hunger 
and  thirst  in  the  very  bosom  of  plenty  ;  and  then  to  tell  them, 
that  the  envy  of  providence  has  sealed  up  every  thing  that  is 
suitable  under  the  character  of  unlawful  ?  For  certainly,  'first 
to  frame  appetites  fit  to  receive  pleasure,  and  then  to  inter 
dict  them  with  a  touch  not,  taste  not,  can  be  nothing  else,  than 
only  to  give  them  occasion  to  devour  and  prey  upon  them 
selves  ;  and  so  to  keep  men  under  the  perpetual  torment  of 
an  unsatisfied  desire  :  a  thing  hugely  contrary  to  the  natural 
felicity  of  the  creature,  and  consequently  to  the  wisdom  and 
goodness  of  the  great  Creator. 

He  therefore  that  would  persuade  men  to  religion,  both 
with  art  and  efficacy,  must  found  the  persuasion  of  it  upon 
this,  that  it  interferes  not  with  any  rational  pleasure,  that  it 
bids  nobody  quit  the  enjoyment  of  any  one  thing  that  his 
reason  can  prove  to  him  ought  to  be  enjoyed.  It  is  confessed, 
when,  through  the  cross  circumstances  of  a  man's  temper  or 
condition,  the  enjoyment  of  a  pleasure  would  certainly  expose 
him  to  a  greater  inconvenience,  then  religion  bids  him  quit 
it ;  that  is,  it  bids  him  prefer  the  endurance  of  a  lesser  evil 
before  a  greater,  and  nature  itself  does  no  less.  Religion 


4  The  Ways  of  Wisdom  [SERM.  I. 

therefore  intrenches  upon  none  of  our  privileges,  invades 
none  of  our  pleasures ;  it  may  indeed  sometimes  command  us 
to  change,  but  never  totally  to  abjure  them. 

But  it  is  easily  foreseen,  that  this  discourse  will  in  the  very 
beginning  of  it  be  encountered  by  an  argument  from  experi 
ence,  and  therefore  not  more  obvious  than  strong;  namely, 
that  it  can  not  but  be  the  greatest  trouble  in  the  world  for  a 
man  thus  (as  it  were)  even  to  shake  off  himself,  and  to  defy 
his  nature,  by  a  perpetual  thwarting  of  his  innate  appetites 
and  desires ;  which  yet  is  absolutely  necessary  to  a  severe  and 
impartial  prosecution  of  a  course  of  piety-:  nay,  and  we  have 
this  asserted  also,  by  the  verdict  of  Christ  himself,  who  still 
makes  the  disciplines  of  self-denial  and  the  cross,  those  terri 
ble  blows  to  flesh  and  blood,  the  indispensable  requisites  to 
the  being  of  his  disciples.  All  which  being  so,  would  not  he 
that  should  be  so  hardy  as  to  attempt  to  persuade  men  to 
piety  from  the  pleasures  of  it,  be  liable  to  that  invective  taunt 
from  all  mankind,  that  the  Israelites  gave  to  Moses;  Wilt 
thou  put  out  the  eyes  of  this  people  ?  Wilt  thou  persuade  us  out 
of  our  first  notions?  Wilt  thou  demonstrate,  that  there  is 
any  delight  in  a  cross,  any  comfort  in  violent  abridgments, 
and,  which  is  the  greatest  paradox  of  all,  that  the  highest 
pleasure  is  to  abstain  from  it? 

For  answer  to  which,  it  must  be  confessed,  that  all  ar 
guments  whatsoever  against  experience  are  fallacious;  and 
therefore,  in  order  to  the  clearing  of  the  assertion  laid  down, 
I  shall  premise  these  two  considerations  : 

1.  That  pleasure  is  in  the  nature  of  it  a  relative  thing,  and 
so  imports  a  peculiar  relation  and  correspondence  to  the  state 
and  condition  of  the  person  to  whom  it  is  a  pleasure.  For  as 
those  who  discourse  of  atoms,  affirm,  that  there  are  atoms  of 
all  forms,  some  round,  some  triangular,  some  square,  and  the 
like ;  all  which  are  continually  in  motion,  and  never  settle  till 
they  fall  into  a  fit  circumscription  or  place  of  the  same  figure : 
so  there  are  the  like  great  diversities  of  minds  and  objects. 
Whence  it  is,  that  this  object  striking  upon  a  mind  thus  or 
thus  disposed,  flies  off,  and  rebounds  without  making  any  im 
pression  ;  but  the  same  luckily  happening  upon  another,  of  a 
disposition  as  it  were  framed  for  it,  is  presently  catched  at, 
and  greedily  clasped  into  the  nearest  unions  and  embraces. 


PROV.  iii.  17.]  are  Ways  of  Pleasantness.  5 

2.  The  other  thing  to  be  considered  is  this  :  that  the  estate 
of  all  men  by  nature  is  more  or  less  different  from  that  estate, 
into  which  the  same  persons  do  or  may  pass,  by  the  exercise 
of  that  which  the  philosophers  called  virtue,  and  into  which 
men  are  much  more  effectually  and  sublimely  translated  by 
that  which  we  call  grace ;  that  is,  by  the  supernatural,  over 
powering  operation  of  God's  Spirit.  The  difference  of  which 
two  estates  consists  in  this  :  that  in  the  former  the  sensitive 
appetites  rule  and  domineer ;  in  the  latter,  the  supreme  fac 
ulty  of  the  soul,  called  reason,  sways  the  sceptre,  and  acts  the 
whole  man  above  the  irregular  demands  of  appetite  and 
affection. 

That  the  distinction  between  these  two  is  not  a  mere  fig 
ment,  framed  only  to  serve  an  hypothesis  in  divinity,  and 
that  there  is  no  man  but  is  really  under  one,  before  he  is 
under  the  other,  I  shall  prove,  by  showing  a  reason  why  it  is 
so,  or  rather  indeed  why  it  can  not  but  be  so.  And  it  is  this  : 
because  every  man  in  the  beginning  of  his  life,  for  several 
years  is  capable  only  of  exercising  his  sensitive  faculties  and 
desires,  the  use  of  reason  not  showing  itself  till  about  the 
seventh  year  of  his  age ;  and  then  at  length  but  (as  it  were) 
dawning  in  very  imperfect  essays  and  discoveries.  Now  it 
being  most  undeniably  evident,  that  every  faculty  and  power 
grows  stronger  and  stronger  by  exercise  ;  is  it  any  wonder  at 
all,  when  a  man  for  the  space  of  his  first  six  years,  and  those 
the  years  of  ductility  and  impression,  has  been  wholly  ruled 
by  the  propensions  of  sense,  at  that  age  very  eager  and  impet 
uous,  that  then  after  all,  his  reason  beginning  to  exert  and 
put  forth  itself,  finds  the  man  prepossessed,  and  under  another 
power  ?  So  that  it  has  much  ado,  by  many  little  steps  and 
gradual  conquests,  to  recover  its  prerogative  from  the  usur 
pations  of  appetite,  and  so  to  subject  the  whole  man  to  its 
dictates :  the  difficulty  of  which  is  not  conquered  by  some 
men  all  their  days.  And  this  is  one  true  ground  of  the 
difference  between  a  state  of  nature  and  a  state  of  grace, 
which  some  are  pleased  to  scoff  at  in  divinity,  who  think  that 
they  confute  all  that  they  laugh  at,  not  knowing  that  it  may 
be  solidly  evinced  by  mere  reason  and  philosophy. 

These  two  considerations  being  premised,  namely,  that 
pleasure  implies  a  proportion  and  agreement  to  the  respective 


6  The  Ways  of  Wisdom  [SERM.  I. 

states  and  conditions  of  men  ;  and  that  the  state  of  men  by 
nature  is  vastly  different  from  the  estate  into  which  grace  or 
virtue  transplants  them;  all  that  objection  leveled  against 
the  foregoing  assertion  is  very  easily  resolvable. 

For  there  is  no  doubt,  but  a  man,  while  he  resigns  himself 
up  to  the  brutish  guidance  of  sense  and  appetite,  has  no  relish 
at  all  for  the  spiritual,  refined  delights  of  a  soul  clarified  by 
grace  and  virtue.  The  pleasures  of  an  angel  can  never  be 
the  pleasures  of  a  hog.  But  this  is  the  thing  that  we  con 
tend  for ;  that  a  man  having  once  advanced  himself  to  a  state 
of  superiority  over  the  control  of  his  inferior  appetites,  finds 
an  infinitely  more  solid  and  sublime  pleasure  in  the  delights 
proper  to  his  reason,  than  the  same  person  had  ever  conveyed 
to  him  by  the  bare  ministry  of  his  senses.  His  taste  is 
absolutely  changed,  and  therefore  that  which  pleased  him 
formerly,  becomes  flat  and  insipid  to  his  appetite,  now  grown 
more  masculine  and  severe.  For  as  age  and  maturity  passes  a 
real  and  a  marvelous  change  upon  the  diet  and  recreations  of 
the  same  person ;  so  that  no  man  at  the  years  and  vigor  of 
thirty  is  either  fond  of  sugar-plums  or  rattles :  in  like  man 
ner,  when  reason,  by  the  assistance  of  grace,  has  prevailed 
over,  and  outgrown  the  encroachments  of  sense,  the  delights 
of  sensuality  are  to  such  an  one  but  as  an  hobby-horse  would 
be  to  a  counselor  of  state,  or  as  tasteless  as  a  bundle  of  hay 
to  an  hungry  lion.  Every,  alteration  of  a  man's  condition 
infallibly  infers  an  alteration  of  his  pleasures. 

The  Athenians  laughed  the  physiognomist  to  scorn,  who, 
pretending  to  read  men's  minds  in  their  foreheads,  described 
Socrates  for  a  crabbed,  lustful,  proud,  ill-natured  person; 
they  knowing  how  directly  contrary  he  was  to  that  dirty 
character.  But  Socrates  bid  them  forbear  laughing  at  the 
man,  for  that  he  had  given  them  a  most  exact  account  of  his 
nature ;  but  what  they  saw  in  him  so  contrary  at  the  present, 
was  from  the  conquest  that  he  had  got  over  his  natural 
disposition  by  philosophy.  And  now  let  any  one  consider, 
whether  that  anger,  that  revenge,  that  wantonness  and  am 
bition,  that  were  the  proper  pleasures  of  Socrates,  under  his 
natural  temper  of  crabbed,  lustful,  and  proud,  could  have  at 
all  affected  or  enamored  the  mind  of  the  same  Socrates, 
made  gentle,  chaste,  and  Jiumble  by  philosophy. 


PROV.  iii.  17.]  are  Ways  of  Pleasantness.  7 

Aristotle  says,  that  were  it  possible  to  put  a  young  man's 
eye  into  an  old  man's  bead,  be  would  see  as  plainly  and  clearly 
as  tbe  other :  so  could  we  infuse  the  inclinations  and  prin 
ciples  of  a  virtuous  person  into  him  that  prosecutes  his 
debauches  with  the  greatest  keenness  of  desire  and  sense  of 
delight,  he  would  loathe  and  reject  them  as  heartily  as  he 
now  pursues  them.  Diogenes,  being  asked  at  a  feast,  why  he 
did  not  continue  eating  as  the  rest  did,  answered  him  that 
asked  him  with  another  question,  Pray  why  do  you  eat? 
Why,  says  he,  for  my  pleasure.  Why  so,  says  Diogenes,  do  I 
abstain  for  my  pleasure.  And  therefore  the  vain,  the  vicious, 
and  luxurious  person  argues  at  an  high  rate  of  inconsequence, 
when  he  makes  his  particular  desires  the  general  measure  of 
other  men's  delights.  But  the  case  is  so  plain,  that  I  shall 
not  upbraid  any  man's  understanding,  by  endeavoring  to  give 
it  any  further  illustration. 

But  still,  after  all,  I  must  not  deny,  that  the  change  and 
passage  from  a  state  of  nature  to  a  state  of  virtue  is  laborious, 
and  consequently  irksome  and  unpleasant :  and  to  this  it  is, 
that  all  the  forementioned  expressions  of  our  Saviour  do 
allude.  But  surely  the  baseness  of  one  condition,  and  the 
generous  excellency  of  the  other,  is  a  sufficient  argument  to 
induce  any  one  to  a  change.  For  as  no  man  would  think  it 
a  desirable  thing,  to  preserve  the  itch  upon  himself,  only  for 
the  pleasure  of  scratching,  that  attends  that  loathsome  dis 
temper  :  so  neither  can  any  man,  that  would  be  faithful  to 
his  reason,  yield  his  ear  to  be  bored  through  by  his  domineer 
ing  appetites,  and  so  choose  to  serve  them  forever,  only  for 
those  poor,  thin  gratifications  of  sensuality  that  they  are  able 
to  reward  him  with.  The  ascent  up  the  hill  is  hard  and 
tedious,  but  the  serenity  and  fair  prospect  at  the  top  is  suffi 
cient  to  incite  the  labor  of  undertaking  it,  and  to  reward 
it,  being  undertook.  But  the  difference  of  these  two  condi 
tions  of  men,  as  the  foundation  of  their  different  pleasures, 
being  thus  made  out,  to  press  men  with  arguments  to  pass 
from  one  to  the  other,  is  not  directly  in  the  way  or  design  of 
this  discourse. 

Yet  before  I  come  to  declare  positively  the  pleasures  that 
are  to  be  found  in  the  ways  of  religion,  one  of  the  grand 
duties  of  which  is  stated  upon  repentance,  a  thing  expressed 


8  The  Ways  of  Wisdom  [SERM.  I. 

to  us  by  the  grim  names  of  mortification,  crucifixion,  and  the 
like ;  and  that  I  may  not  proceed  only  upon  absolute  nega 
tions,  without  some  concessions ;  we  will  see,  whether  this 
so  harsh,  dismal,  and  affrighting  duty  of  repentance  is  so 
entirely  gall,  as  to  admit  of  no  mixture,  no  allay  of  sweetness, 
to  reconcile  it  to  the  apprehensions  of  reason  and  nature. 
Now  repentance  consists  properly  of  two  things : 

1.  Sorrow  for  sin. 

2.  Change  of  life. 

A  word  briefly  of  them  both. 

1.  And  first  for  sorrow  for  sin  :  usually,  the  sting  of  sorrow 
is  this,  that  it  neither  removes  nor  alters  the  thing  we  sorrow 
for ;  and  so  is  but  a  kind  of  reproach  to  our  reason,  which 
will  be  sure  to  accost  us  with  this  dilemma.    Either  the  thing 
we  sorrow  for  is  to  be  remedied,  or  it  is  not :  if  it  is,  why 
then  do  we  spend  the  time  in  mourning,  which   should  be 
spent  in  an  active  applying  of  remedies?    But  if  it  is  not, 
then  is  our  sorrow  vain  and  superfluous,  as  tending  to  no  real 
effect.     For  no  man  can  weep  his  father  or  his  friend  out  of 
the   grave,  or  mourn  himself  out  of  a  bankrupt  condition. 
But  this  spiritual  sorrow  is  effectual  to  one  of  the  greatest 
and  highest  purposes  that  mankind  can  be  concerned  in.     It 
is  a  means  to  avert  an  impendent  wrath,  to  disarm  an  of 
fended  omnipotence,  and  even  to  fetch  a  soul  out  of  the  very 
jaws  of  hell.     So  that  the  end  and  consequence  of  this  sorrow 
sweetens  the  sorrow  itself:  and  as  Solomon  says,  In  the  midst 
of  laughter,  the  heart  is  sorrowful ;  so  in  the  midst  of  sorrow 
here,  the  heart  may  rejoice :  for  while  it  mourns,  it  reads, 
that  those  that  mourn  shall  be  comforted  ;  and  so  while  the  pen 
itent  weeps  with  one  eye,  he  views  his  deliverance  with  the 
other.     But  then  for  the  external  expressions,  and  vent  of 
sorrow ;  we  know  that  there  is  a  certain  pleasure  in  weeping ; 
it  is  the  discharge  of  a  big  and  a  swelling  grief;  of  a  full 
and  a  strangling  discontent ;   and  therefore,  he  that  never 
had  such  a  burden  upon  his  heart,  as  to  give  him  opportunity 
thus  to  ease  it,  has  one  pleasure  in  this  world  yet  to  come. 

2.  As  for  the  other  part  of  repentance,  which  is  change 
of  life,  this  indeed  may  be  troublesome  in  the  entrance ;  but 
it  is  but  the  first  bold  onset,  the  first  resolute  violence  and 
invasion  upon  a  vicious  habit,  that  is  so  sharp  and  afflicting. 


PKOV.  iii.  17.]  are  Ways  of  Pkasantness.  9 

Every  impression  of  the  lancet  cuts,  but  it  is  the  first  only 
that  smarts.  Besides,  it  is  an  argument  hugely  unreasonable, 
to  plead  the  pain  of  passing  from  a  vicious  estate,  unless  it 
were  proved,  that  there  was  none  in  the  continuance  under 
it :  but  surely,  when  we  read  of  the  service,  the  bondage,  and 
the  captivity  of  sinners,  we  are  not  entertained  only  with  the 
air  of  words  and  metaphors,  and,  instead  of  truth,  put  off  with 
similitudes.  Let  him  that  says  it  is  a  trouble  to  refrain  from 
a  debauch,  convince  us,  that  it  is  not  a  greater  to  undergo 
one ;  and  that  the  confessor  did  not  impose  a  shrewd  penance 
upon  the  drunken  man,  by  bidding  him  go  and  be  drunk 
again ;  and  that  lisping,  raging,  redness  of  eyes,  and  what  is 
not  fit  to  be  named  in  such  an  audience,  is  not  more  toilsome, 
than  to  be  clean,  and  quiet,  and  discreet,  and  respected  for 
being  so.  All  the  trouble  that  is  in  it,  is  the  trouble  of  being 
sound,  being  cured,  and  being  recovered.  But  if  there  be 
great  arguments  for  health,  then  certainly  there  are  the  same 
for  the  obtaining  of  it ;  and  so  keeping  a  due  proportion 
between  spirituals  and  temporals,  we  neither  have,  nor  pre 
tend  to  greater  arguments  for  repentance. 

Having  thus  now  cleared  off  all,  that  by  way  of  objection 
can  lie  against  the  truth  asserted,  by  showing  the  proper 
qualification  of  the  subject,  to  whom  only  the  ways  of  wisdom 
can  be  ways  of  pleasantness ;  for  the  further  prosecution  of 
the  matter  in  hand,  I  shall  show  what  are  those  properties 
that  so  peculiarly  set  off  and  enhance  the  excellency  of  this 
pleasure. 

I.  The  first  is,  That  it  is  the  proper  pleasure  of  that  part 
of  man,  which  is  the  largest  and  most  comprehensive  of  pleas 
ure,  and  that  is  his  mind  :  a  substance  of  a  boundless  com 
prehension.  The  mind  of  man  is  an  image,  not  only  of  God's 
spirituality,  but  of  his  infinity.  It  is  not  like  any  of  the 
senses,  limited  to  this  or  that  kind  of  object :  as  the  sight 
intermeddles  not  with  that  which  affects  the  smell ;  but  with 
an  universal  superintendence,  it  arbitrates  upon  and  takes 
them  in  all.  It  is  (as  I  may  so  say)  an  ocean,  into  which  all 
the  little  rivulets  of  sensation,  both  external  and  internal, 
discharge  themselves.  It  is  framed  by  God  to  receive  all, 
and  more  than  nature  can  afford  it ;  and  so  to  be  its  own 
motive  to  seek  for  something  above  nature.  Now  this  is  that 


10  Tlie  Ways  of  Wisdom  [SERM.  I. 

part  of  man  to  which  the  pleasures  of  religion  properly  be 
long  :   and  that  in  a  double  respect. 

1.  In  reference  to  speculation,  as  it  sustains  the  name  of 
understanding. 

2.  In  reference  to  practice,  as  it  sustains  the  name  of  con 
science. 

1.  And  first  for  speculation  :  the  pleasures  of  which  have 
been  sometimes  so  great,  so  intense,  so  engrossing  of  all  the 
powers  of  the  soul,  that  there  has  been  no  room  left  for  any 
other  pleasure.  It  has  so  called  together  all  the  spirits  to 
that  one  work,  that  there  has  been  no  supply  to  carry  on  the 
inferior  operations  of  nature.  Contemplation  feels  no  hunger, 
nor  is  sensible  of  any  thirst,  but  of  that  after  knowledge. 
How  frequent  and  exalted  a  pleasure  did  David  find  from  his 
meditation  in  the  divine  law !  All  the  day  long  it  was  the 
theme  of  his  thoughts.  The  affairs  of  state,  the  government 
of  his  kingdom,  might  indeed  employ,  but  it  was  this  only 
that  refreshed  his  mind. 

How  short  of  this  are  the  delights  of  the  epicure !  How 
vastly  disproportionate  are  the  pleasures  of  the  eating  and 
of  the  thinking  man  !  Indeed  as  different  as  the  silence  of  an 
Archimedes  in  the  study  of  a  problem,  and  the  stillness  of  a 
sow  at  her  wash.  Nothing  is  comparable  to  the  pleasure  of 
an  active  and  a  prevailing  thought :  a  thought  prevailing  over 
the  difficulty  and  obscurity  of  the  object,  and  refreshing  the 
soul  with  new  discoveries  and  images  of  things  ;  and  thereby 
extending  the  bounds  of  apprehension,  and  (as  it  were)  enlarg 
ing  the  territories  of  reason. 

Now  this  pleasure  of  the  speculation  of  divine  things  is 
advanced  upon  a  double  account: 

(1.)  The  greatness. 

(2.)  The  newness  of  the  object. 

(1.)  And  first  for  the  greatness  of  it.  It  is  no  less  than  the 
great  God  himself,  and  that  both  in  his  nature  and  his  works. 
For  the  eye  of  reason,  like  that  of  the  eagle,  directs  itself 
chiefly  to  the  sun,  to  a  glory  that  neither  admits  of  a  superior 
nor  an  equal.  Religion  carries  the  soul  to  the  study  of  every 
divine  attribute. 

It  poses  it  with  the  amazing  thoughts  of  omnipotence  ;  of 
a  power  able  to  fetch  up  such  a  glorious  fabric,  as  this  of  the 


PROV.  iii.  17.]  are  Ways  of  Pleasantness.  11 

world,  out  of  the  abyss  of  vanity  and  nothing,  and  able  to 
throw  it  back  into  the  same  original  nothing  again.  It 
drowns  us  in  the  speculation  of  the  divine  omniscience  ;  that 
can  maintain  a  steady  infallible  comprehension  of  all  events 
in  themselves  contingent  and  accidental ;  and  certainly  know 
that,  which  does  not  certainly  exist.  It  confounds  the  great 
est  subtilties  of  speculation,  with  the  riddles  of  God's  om 
nipresence;  that  can  spread  a  single  individual  substance 
through  all  spaces ;  and  yet  without  any  commensuration  of 
parts  to  any,  or  circumscription  within  any,  though  totally 
in  every  one.  And  then  for  his  eternity ;  which  nonpluses 
the  strongest  and  clearest  conception,  to  comprehend  how 
one  single  act  of  duration  should  measure  all  periods  and 
portions  of  time,  without  any  of  the  distinguishing  parts  of 
succession.  Likewise  for  his  justice  ;  which  shall  prey  upon 
the  sinner  forever,  satisfying  itself  by  a  perpetual  miracle, 
rendering  the  creature  immortal  in  the  midst  of  the  flames ; 
always  consuming,  but  never  consumed.  With  the  like  won 
ders  we  may  entertain  our  speculations  from  his  mercy ;  his 
beloved,  his  triumphant  attribute,  an  attribute,  if  it  were  pos 
sible,  something  more  than  infinite ;  for  even  his  justice  is  so, 
and  his  mercy  transcends  that.  Lastly,  we  may  contemplate 
upon  his  supernatural,  astonishing  works  :  particularly  in  the 
resurrection,  and  reparation  of  the  same  numerical  body,  by 
a  reunion  of  all  the  scattered  parts,  to  be  at  length  disposed 
of  into  an  estate  of  eternal  woe  or  bliss ;  as  also  the  greatness 
and  strangeness  of  the  beatific  vision ;  how  a  created  eye 
should  be  so  fortified,  as  to  bear  all  those  glories  that  stream 
from  the  fountain  of  uncreated  light,  the  meanest  expression 
of  which  light  is,  that  it  is  unexpressible.  Now  what  great 
and  high  objects  are  these  for  a  rational  contemplation  to 
busy  itself  upon  !  Heights  that  scorn  the  reach  of  our  pros 
pect  ;  and  depths  in  which  the  tallest  reason  will  never  touch 
the  bottom  :  yet  surely  the  pleasure  arising  from  thence  is 
great  and  noble ;  forasmuch  as  they  afford  perpetual  matter 
and  employment  to  the  inquisitiveness  of  human  reason,  and 
so  are  large  enough  for  it  to  take  its  full  scope  and  range  in : 
which  when  it  has  sucked  and  drained  the  utmost  of  an  i 
object,  naturally  lays  it  aside,  and  neglects  it  as  a  dry  and  an 
empty  thing. 


12  The  Ways  of  Wisdom  [SERM.  i. 

(2.)  As  the  things  belonging  to  religion  entertain  our 
speculation  with  great  objects,  so  they  entertain  it  also  with 
new  :  and  novelty,  we  know,  is  the  great  parent  of  pleasure ; 
upon  which  account  it  is  that  men  are  so  much  pleased  with 
variety,  and  variety  is  nothing  else  but  a  continued  novelty. 
The  Athenians,  who  were  the  professed  and  most  diligent 
improvers  of  their  reason,  made  it  their  whole  business  to  hear 
or  to  tell  some  new  thing :  for  the  truth  is,  newness  especially 
in  great  matters,  was  a  worthy  entertainment  for  a  searching 
mind ;  it  was  (as  I  may  so  say)  an  high  taste,  fit  for  the  relish 
of  an  Athenian  reason.  And  thereupon  the  mere  unheard- 
of  strangeness  of  Jesus  and  the  resurrection,  made  them 
desirous  to  hear  it  discoursed  of  to  them  again,  Acts  xvii.  32. 
But  how  would  it  have  employed  their  searching  faculties, 
had  the  mystery  of  the  Trinity,  and  the  incarnation  of  the 
Son  of  God,  and  the  whole  economy  of  man's  redemption  been 
explained  to  them!  For  how  could  it  ever  enter  into  the 
thoughts  of  reason,  that  a  satisfaction  could  be  paid  to  an 
infinite  justice  ?  Or,  that  two  natures  so  unconceivably  dif 
ferent  as  the  human  and  divine,  could  unite  into  one  person  ? 
The  knowledge  of  these  things  could  derive  from  nothing  else 
but  pure  revelation,  and  consequently  must  be  purely  new  to 
the  highest  discourses  of  mere  nature.  Now  that  the  new 
ness  of  an  object  so  exceedingly  pleases  and  strikes  the  mind, 
appears  from  this  one  consideration  ;  that  every  thing  pleases 
more  in  expectation  than  fruition :  and  expectation  supposes 
a  thing  as  yet  new,  the  hoped-for  discovery  of  which  is  the 
pleasure  that  entertains  the  expecting  and  inquiring  mind : 
whereas  actual  discovery  (as  it  were)  rifles  and  deflowers  the 
newness  and  freshness  of  the  object,  and  so  for  the  most  part 
makes  it  cheap,  familiar,  and  contemptible. 

It  is  clear  therefore,  that,  if  there  be  any  pleasure  to  the 
mind  from  speculation,  and  if  this  pleasure  of  speculation 
be  advanced  by  the  greatness  and  newness  of  the  things 
contemplated  upon,  all  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  ways  of 
religion. 

2.  In  the  next  place,  religion  is  a  pleasure  to  the  mind, 
as  it  respects  practice,  and  so  sustains  the  name  of  conscience. 
And  conscience  undoubtedly  is  the  great  repository  and  maga 
zine  of  all  those  pleasures  that  can  afford  any  solid  refresh- 


PKOV.  ill.  17.]  are  Ways  of  Pleasantness.  13 

ment  to  the  soul.  For  when  this  is  calm,  and  serene,  and 
absolving,  then  properly  a  man  enjoys  all  things,  and  what 
is  more,  himself;  for  that  he  must  do,  before  he  can  enjoy 
any  thing  else.  But  it  is  only  a  pious  life,  led  exactly  by  the 
rules  of  a  severe  religion,  that  can  authorize  a  man's  con 
science  to  speak  comfortably  to  him  :  it  is  this  that  must  word 
the  sentence,  before  the  conscience  can  pronounce  it,  and 
then  it  will  do  it  with  majesty  and  authority :  it  will  not 
whisper,  but  proclaim  a  jubilee  to  the  mind ;  it  will  not  drop, 
but  pour  in  oil  upon  the  wounded  heart.  And  is  there  any 
pleasure  comparable  to  that  which  springs  from  hence  ?  The 
pleasure  of  conscience  is  not  only  greater  than  all  other  pleas 
ures,  but  may  also  serve  instead  of  them  :  for  they  only  please 
and  affect  the  mind  in  transitu,  in  the  pitiful  narrow  compass 
of  actual  fruition ;  whereas  that  of  conscience  entertains  and 
feeds  it  a  long  time  after  with  durable,  lasting  reflections. 

And  thus  much  for  the  first  ennobling  property  of  the  pleas 
ure  belonging  to  religion  ;  namely,  That  it  is  the  pleasure  of 
the  mind,  and  that  both  as  it  relates  to  speculation,  and  is 
called  the  understanding,  and  as  it  relates  to  practice,  and  is 
called  the  conscience. 

II.  The  second  ennobling  property  of  it  is,  That  it  is  such 
a  pleasure  as  never  satiates  or  wearies  :  for  it  properly  affects 
the  spirit,  and  a  spirit  feels  no  weariness,  as  being  privileged 
from  the  causes  of  it.  But  can  the  epicure  say  so  of  any  of 
the  pleasures  that  he  so  much  dotes  upon?  Do  they  not 
expire,  while  they  satisfy  ?  And  after  a  few  minutes'  refresh 
ment,  determine  in  loathing  and  unquietness  ?  How  short  is 
the  interval  between  a  pleasure  and  a  burden !  How  undis- 
cernible  the  transition  from  one  to  the  other !  Pleasure  dwells 
no  longer  upon  the  appetite,  than  the  necessities  of  nature, 
which  are  quickly  and  easily  provided  for ;  and  then  all  that 
follows  is  a  load  and  an  oppression.  Every  morsel  to  a 
satisfied  hunger,  is  only  a  new  labor  to  a  tired  digestion. 
Every  draught  to  him  that  has  quenched  his  thirst,  is  but 
a  further  quenching  of  nature ;  a  provision  for  rheum  and 
diseases,  a  drowning  of  the  quickness  and  activity  of  the 
spirits. 

He  that  prolongs  his  meals,  and  sacrifices  his  time,  as  well 
as  his  other  conveniences,  to  his  luxury,  how  quickly  does  he 


14  The  Ways  of  Wisdom  .         [SERM.  I. 

out-sit  his  pleasure  !  And  then,  how  is  all  the  following  time 
bestowed  upon  ceremony  and  surfeit !  till  at  length,  after  a 
long  fatigue  of  eating,  and  drinking,  and  babbling,  he  con 
cludes  the  great  work  of  dining  genteelly,  and  so  makes  a  shift 
to  rise  from  table,  that  he  may  lie  down  upon  his  bed :  where, 
after  he  has  slept  himself  into  some  use  of  himself,  by  much 
ado  he  staggers  to  his  table  again,  and  there  acts  over  the 
same  brutish  scene :  so  that  he  passes  his  whole  life  in  a  dozed 
condition  between  sleeping  and  waking,  with  a  kind  of  drow 
siness  and  confusion  upon  his  senses ;  which,  what  pleasure 
it  can  be,  is  hard  to  conceive ;  all  that  is  of  it,  dwells  upon  the 
tip  of  his  tongue,  and  within  the  compass  of  his  palate :  a 
worthy  prize  for  a  man  to  purchase  with  the  loss  of  his  time, 
his  reason,  and  himself. 

Nor  is  that  man  less  deceived,  that  thinks  to  maintain  a 
constant  tenure  of  pleasure,  by  a  continual  pursuit  of  sports 
and  recreations :  for  it  is  most  certainly  true  of  all  these 
things,  that  as  they  refresh  a  man  when  he  is  weary,  so  they 
weary  him  when  he  is  refreshed ;  which  is  an  evident  demon 
stration  that  God  never  designed  the  use  of  them  to  be  con 
tinual,  by  putting  such  an  emptiness  in  them,  as  should  so 
quickly  fail  and  lurch  expectation. 

The  most  voluptuous  and  loose  person  breathing,  were  he 
but  tied  to  follow  his  hawks  and  his  hounds,  his  dice  and  his 
courtships  every  day,  would  find  it  the  greatest  torment  and 
calamity  that  could,  befall  him ;  he  would  fly  to  the  mines 
and  the  galleys  for  his  recreation,  and  to  the  spade  and  the 
mattock  for  a  diversion  from  the  misery  of  a  continual  unin- 
termitted  pleasure. 

But  on  the  contrary,  the  providence  of  God  has  so  ordered 
the  course  of  things,  that  there  is  no  action,  the  usefulness 
of  which  has  made  it  the  matter  of  duty,  and  of  a  profession, 
but  a  man  may  bear  the  continual  pursuit  of  it,  without 
loathing  or  satiety.  The  same  shop  and  trade  that  employs 
a  man  in  his  youth,  employs  him  also  in  his  age.  Every 
morning  he  rises  fresh  to  his  hammer  and  his  anvil ;  he 
passes  the  day  singing :  custom  has  naturalized  his  labor  to 
him  :  his  shop  is  his  element,  and  he  can  not  with  any  enjoy 
ment  of  himself  live  out  of  it.  Whereas  no  custom  can  make 
the  painfulness  of  a  debauch  easy  or  pleasing  to  a  man  ;  since 


PEOV.  iii.  IT.]  are  Ways  of  Pleasantness.  15 

nothing  can  be  pleasant  that  is  unnatural.  But  now,  if  God 
has  interwoven  such  a  pleasure  with  the  works  of  our  ordi 
nary  calling- ;  how  much  superior  and  more  refined  must  that 
he,  that  arises  from  the  survey  of  a  pious  and  well-governed 
life !  Surely,  as  much  as  Christianity  is  nobler  than  a  trade. 

And  then,  for  the  constant  freshness  of  it ;  it  is  such  a 
pleasure  as  can  never  cloy  or  overwork  the  mind :  for  surely 
no  man  was  ever  weary  of  thinking,  much  less  of  thinking 
that  he  had  done  well  or  virtuously,  that  he  had  conquered 
such  and  such  a  temptation,  or  offered  violence  to  any  of  his 
exorbitant  desires.  This  is  a  delight  that  grows  and  improves 
under  thought  and  reflection :  and  while  it  exercises,  does  also 
endear  itself  to  the  mind ;  at  the  same  time  employing  and 
inflaming  the  meditations.  All  pleasures  that  affect  the  body 
must  needs  weary,  because  they  transport ;  and  all  transpor 
tation  is  a  violence ;  and  no  violence  can  be  lasting,  but  de 
termines  upon  the  falling  of  the  spirits,  which  are  not  able 
to  keep  up  that  height  of  motion  that  the  pleasure  of  the 
senses  raises  them  to  :  and  therefore  how  inevitably  does  an 
immoderate  laughter  end  in  a  sigh !  which  is  only  nature's 
recovering  itself  after  a  force  done  to  it.  But  the  religious 
pleasure  of  a  well-disposed  mind  moves  gently,  and  therefore 
constantly  :  it  does  not  affect  by  rapture  and  ecstasy ;  but  is 
like  the  pleasure  of  health,  which  is  still  and  sober,  yet 
greater  and  stronger  than  those  that  call  up  the  senses  with 
grosser  and  more  affecting  impressions.  God  has  given  no 
man  a  body  as  strong  as  his  appetites ;  but  has  corrected 
the  boundlessness  of  his  voluptuous  desires,  by  stinting  his 
strengths,  and  contracting  his  capacities. 

But  to  look  upon  those  pleasures  also  that  have  an  higher 
object  than  the  body ;  as  those  that  spring  from  honor  and 
grandeur  of  condition  ;  yet  we  shall  find,  that  even  these  are 
not  so  fresh  and  constant,  but  the  mind  can  nauseate  them, 
and  quickly  feel  the  thinness  of  a  popular  breath.  Those 
that  are  so  fond  of  applause  while  they  pursue  it,  how  little 
do  they  taste  it  when  they  have  it !  Like  lightning,  it  only 
flashes  upon  the  face,  and  is  gone ;  and  it  is  well  if  it  does 
not  hurt  the  man.  But  for  greatness  of  place,  though  it  is 
fit  and  necessary  that  some  persons  in  the  world  should  be  in 
love  with  a  splendid  servitude ;  yet  certainly  they  must  be 


16  The  Ways  of  Wisdom  [SERM.  I 

much  beholding  to  their  own  fancy,  that  they  can  be  pleased 
at  it.  For  he  that  rises  up  early,  and  goes  to  bed  late,  only 
to  receive  addresses,  to  read  and  answer  petitions,  is  really  as 
much  tied  and  abridged  in  his  freedom,  as  he  that  waits  all 
that  time  to  present  one.  And  what  pleasure  can  it  be  to  be 
incumbered  with  dependences,  thronged  and  surrounded  with 
petitioners  ?  And  those  perhaps  sometimes  all  suitors  for  the 
same  thing :  whereupon  all  but  one  will  be  sure  to  depart 
grumbling,  because  they  miss  of  what  they  think  their  due  : 
and  even  that  one  scarce  thankful,  because  he  thinks  he  has 
no  more  than  his  due.  In  a  word,  if  it  is  a  pleasure  to  be 
envied  and  shot  at,  to  be  maligned  standing,  and  to  be  de 
spised  falling,  to  endeavor  that  which  is  impossible,  which  is 
to  please  all,  and  to  suffer  for  not  doing  it ;  then  is  it  a  pleas 
ure  to  be  great,  and  to  be  able  to  dispose  of  men's  fortunes 
and  preferments. 

But  further,  to  proceed  from  hence  to  yet  an  higher  degree 
of  pleasure,  indeed  the  highest  on  this  side  that  of  religion  ; 
which  is  the  pleasure  of  friendship  and  conversation.  Friend 
ship  must  confessedly  be  allowed  the  top,  the  flower,  and 
crown  of  all  temporal  enjoyments.  Yet  has  not  this  also  its 
flaws  and  its  dark  side  ?  For  is  not  my  friend  a  man ;  and  is 
not  friendship  subject  to  the  same  mortality  and  change  that 
men  are  ?  And  in  case  a  man  loves,  and  is  not  loved  again, 
does  he  not  think  that  he  has  cause  to  hate  as  heartily,  and 
ten  times  more  eagerly  than  ever  he  loved  ?  And  then  to  be 
an  enemy,  and  once  to  have  been  a  friend,  does  it  not  embitter 
the  rupture,  and  aggravate  the  calamity?  But  admitting 
that  my  friend  continues  so  to  the  end ;  yet  in  the  mean  time, 
is  he  all  perfection,  all  virtue  and  discretion  P  Has  he  not 
humors  to  be  endured,  as  well  as  kindnesses  to  be  enjoyed  ? 
And  am  I  sure  to  smell  the  rose,  without  sometimes  feeling 
the  thorn  ? 

And  then  lastly  for  company ;  though  it  may  reprieve  a  man 
from  his  melancholy,  yet  it  cannot  secure  him  from  his  con 
science,  nor  from  sometimes  being  alone.  And  what  is  all 
that  a  man  enjoys,  from  a  week's,  a  month's,  or  a  year's  con 
verse,  comparable  to  what  he  feels  for  one  hour,  when  his 
conscience  shall  take  him  aside,  and  rate  him  by  himself? 

'In  short,  run  over  the  whole  circle  of  all  earthly  pleasures, 


PKOV.  ill.  17.]  are  Ways  of  Pleasantness.  17 

and  I  dare  affirm,  that  had  not  God  secured  a  man  a  solid 
pleasure  from  his  own  actions,  after  he  had  rolled  from  one 
to  another,  and  enjoyed  them  all,  he  would  he  forced  to  com 
plain,  that  either  they  were  not  indeed  pleasures,  or  that 
pleasure  was  not  satisfaction. 

III.  The  third  ennobling  property  of  the  pleasure  that 
accrues  to  a  man  from  religion,  is,  that  it  is  such  an  one  as  is 
in  nobody's  power,  hut  only  in  his  that  has  it ;  so  that  he  that 
has  the  property  may  be  also  sure  of  the  perpetuity.  And  tell 
me  so  of  any  outward  enjoyment  that  mortality  is  capable  of. 
We  are  generally  at  the  mercy  of  men's  rapine,  avarice,  and 
violence,  whether  we  shall  be  happy  or  no.  For  if  I  build 
my  felicity  upon  my  estate  or  reputation,  I  am  happy  as  long 
as  the  tyrant  or  the  railer  will  give  me  leave  to  be  so.  But 
when  my  concernment  takes  up  no  more  room  or  compass 
than  myself;  then  so  long  as  I  know  where  to  breathe  and  to 
exist,  I  know  also  where  to  be  happy :  for  I  know  I  may  be 
so  in  my  own  breast,  in  the  court  of  my  own  conscience ; 
where,  if  I  can  but  prevail  with  myself  to  be  innocent,  I  need 
bribe  neither  judge  nor  officer  to  be  pronounced  so.  The 
pleasure  of  the  religious  man  is  an  easy  and  a  portable  pleas 
ure,  such  an  one  as  he  carries  about  in  his  bosom,  without 
alarming  either  the  eye  or  envy  of  the  world.  A  man  putting 
all  his  pleasures  into  this  one,  is  like  a  traveler's  putting  all 
his  goods  into  one  jewel ;  the  value  is  the  same,  and  the  con 
venience  greater. 

There  is  nothing  that  can  raise  a  man  to  that  generous 
absoluteness  of  condition,  as  neither  to  cringe,  to  fawn,  or  to 
depend  meanly,  but  that  which  gives  him  that  happiness 
within  himself,  for  which  men  depend  upon  others.  For 
surely  I  need  salute  no  great  man's  threshold,  sneak  to  none 
of  his  friends  or  servants,  to  speak  a  good  word  for  me  to  my 
conscience.  It  is  a  noble  and  a  sure  defiance  of  a  great 
malice,  backed  with  a  great  interest ;  which  yet  can  have  no 
advantage  of  a  man,  but  from  his  own  expectations  of  some 
thing  that  is  without  himself.  But  if  I  can  make  my  duty 
niy  delight ;  if  I  can  feast,  and  please,  and  caress  my  mind 
with  the  pleasures  of  worthy  speculations  or  virtuous  prac 
tices  ;  let  greatness  and  malice  vex  and  abridge  me  if  they 
can  :  my  pleasures  are  as  free  as  my  will ;  no  more  to  be 


18  The  Ways  of  Wisdom  [SEBM.  I 

controlled  than  my  choice,  or  the  unlimited  range  of  my 
thoughts  and  my  desires. 

Nor  is  this  kind  of  pleasure  only  out  of  the  reach  of  any 
outward  violence,  but  even  those  things  also  that  make  a 
much  closer  impression  upon  us,  which  are  the  irresistible 
decays  of  nature,  have  yet  no  influence  at  all  upon  this.  For 
when  age  itself,  which  of  all  things  in  the  world  will  not  be 
baffled  or  defied,  shall  begin  to  arrest,  seize,  and  remind  us 
of  our  mortality,  by  pains,  aches,  deadness  of  limbs,  and  dull 
ness  of  senses ;  yet  then  the  pleasure  of  the  mind  shall  be  in 
its  full  youth,  vigor,  and  freshness.  A  palsy  may  as  well 
shake  an  oak,  or  a  fever  dry  up  a  fountain,  as  either  of  them 
shake,  dry  up,  or  impair  the  delight  of  conscience.  For  it 
lies  within,  it  centres  in  the  heart,  it  grows  into  the  very 
substance  of  the  soul,  so  that  it  accompanies  a  man  to  his 
grave ;  he  never  outlives  it,  and  that  for  this  cause  only,  be 
cause  he  can  not  outlive  himself. 

And  thus  I  have  endeavored  to  describe  the  excellency  of 
that  pleasure  that  is  to  be  found  in  the  ways  of  a  religious 
wisdom,  by  those  excellent  properties  that  do  attend  it ;  which, 
whether  they  reach  the  description  that  has  been  given  them, 
or  no,  every  man  may  convince  himself,  by  the  best  of  dem 
onstrations,  which  is  his  own  trial. 

Now  from  all  this  discourse,  this  1  am  sure  is  a  most 
natural  and  direct  consequence,  that  if  the  ways  of  religion 
are  ways  of  pleasantness,  then  such  as  are  not  ways  of  pleas 
antness  are  not  truly  and  properly  ways  of  religion.  Upon 
which  ground,  it  is  easy  to  see  what  judgment  is  to  be  passed 
upon  all  those  aifected,  uncommanded,  absurd  austerities,  so 
much  prized  and  exercised  by  some  of  the  Romish  profession. 
Pilgrimages,  going  barefoot,  hair  shirts,  and  whips,  with 
other  such  gospel  artillery,  are  their  only  helps  to  devotion  : 
things  never  enjoined,  either  by  the  prophets  under  the  Jew 
ish,  or  by  the  apostles  under  the  Christian  economy';  who  yet 
surely  understood  the  proper  and  the  most  efficacious  instru 
ments  of  piety,  as  well  as  any  confessor  or  friar  of  all  the 
order  of  St.  Francis,  or  any  casuist  whatsoever. 

It  seems,  that  with  them  a  man  sometimes  can  not  be  a 
penitent,  unless  he  also  turns  vagabond,  and  foots  it  to  Jeru 
salem  ;  or  wanders  over  this  or  that  part  of  the  world  to  visit 


PROV.  iii.  17. J  are  Ways  of  Pleasantness.  19 

the  shrine  of  such  or  such  a  pretended  saint ;  though  perhaps, 
in  his  life,  ten  times  more  ridiculous  than  themselves :  thus, 
that  which  was  Cain's  curse  is  hecome  their  religion.  He 
that  thinks  to  expiate  a  sin  by  going  barefoot,  does  the  pen 
ance  of  a  goose,  and  only  makes  one  folly  the  atonement  of 
another.  Paul  indeed  was  scourged  and  beaten  by  the  Jews, 
but  we  never  read  that  he  beat  or  scourged  himself :  and  if 
they  think  that  his  keeping  under  of  his  body  imports  so  much, 
they  must  first  prove  that  the  body  can  not  be  kept  under  by 
a  virtuous  mind,  and  that  the  mind  can  not  be  made  virtuous 
but  by  a  scourge  ;  and  consequently,  that  thongs  and  whip 
cord  are  means  of  grace,  and  things  necessary  to  salvation. 
The  truth  is,  if  men's  religion  lies  no  deeper  than  their  skin, 
it  is  possible  that  they  may  scourge  themselves  into  very 
great  improvements. 

But  they  will  find  that  bodily  exercise  touches  not  the  soul ; 
and  that  neither  pride,  nor  lust,  nor  covetousness,  nor  any 
other  vice,  was  ever  mortified  by  corporal  disciplines :  it  is 
not  the  back,  but  the  heart  that  must  bleed  for  sin  :  and  con 
sequently,  that  in  this  whole  course  they  are  like  men  out  of 
their  way ;  let  them  lash  on  never  so  fast,  they  are  not  at  all 
the  nearer  to  their  journey's  end :  and  howsoever  they  deceive 
themselves  and  others,  they  may  as  well  expect  to  bring  a 
cart  as  a  soul  to  heaven  by  such  means.  What  arguments 
they  have  to  beguile  poor,  simple,  unstable  souls  with,  I  know 
not ;  but  surely  the  practical,  casuistical,  that  is,  the  principal, 
vital  part  of  their  religion  savors  very  little  of  spirituality. 

And  now  upon  the  result  of  all,  I  suppose,  that  to  exhort 
men  to  be  religious  is  only  in  other  words  to  exhort  them 
to  take  their  pleasure.  A  pleasure,  high,  rational,  and  angel 
ical  ;  a  pleasure  embased  with  no  appendant  sting,  no  con 
sequent  loathing,  no  remorses  or  bitter  farewells :  but  such 
an  one,  as  being  honey  in  the  mouth,  never  turns  to  gall  or 
gravel  in  the  belly.  A  pleasure  made  for  the  soul,  and  the 
soul  for  that ;  suitable  to  its  spirituality,  and  equal  to  all  its 
capacities.  Such  an  one  as  grows  fresher  upon  enjoyment, 
and  though  continually  fed  upon,  yet  is  never  devoured.  A 
pleasure  that  a  man  may  call  as  properly  his  own,  as  his  soul 
and  his  conscience ;  neither  liable  to  accident,  nor  exposed 
to  injury.  It  is  the  foretaste  of  heaven,  and  the  earnest  of 


20         Tfie  Ways  of  Wisdom  are  Ways  of  Pleasantness.  [SERM.  i. 

eternity.  In  a  word,  it  is  such  an  one,  as  being  begun  in 
grace,  passes  into  glory,  blessedness,  and  immortality,  and 
those  pleasures  that  neither  eye  has  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor 
lias  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive. 

To  which  God  of  his  mercy  vouchsafe  to  bring  us  all :  to  whom 
be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise,  might, 
majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for  evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  II. 

PREACHED  AT  THE    CATHEDRAL  CHURCH  OF  ST.  PAUL'S, 
NOVEMBER  THE  9xn,  1662. 


TO  THE  RIGHT  HONORABLE  THE  LORD  MAYOR  AND  ALDERMEN  OF  THE  CITY 

OF  LONDON. 

RIGHT  HONORABLE, 

T^TTHEN  I  consider  how  impossible  it  is  for  a  person  of  my  con- 
*  dition  to  produce,  and  consequently  how  imprudent  to  attempt, 
any  thing  in  proportion  either  to  the  ampleness  of  the  body  you  rep 
resent,  or  of  the  places  you  bear,  I  should  be  kept  from  venturing 
so  poor  a  piece,  designed  to  live  but  an  hour,  in  so  lasting  a  publi 
cation  ;  did  not  what  your  civility  calls  a  request,  your  greatness  ren 
der  a  command.  The  truth  is,  in  things  not  unlawful,  great  persons 
can  not  be  properly  said  to  request ;  because,  all  things  considered, 
they  must  not  be  denied.  To  me  it  was  honor  enough  to  have  your 
audience,  enjoyment  enough  to  behold  your  happy  change,  and  to 
see  the  same  city,  the  metropolis  of  loyalty  and  of  the  kingdom,  to 
behold  the  glory  of  English  churches  reformed,  that  is,  delivered 
from  the  reformers ;  and  to  find  at  least  the  service  of  the  church 
repaired,  though  not  the  building ;  to  see  St.  Paul's  delivered  from 
beasts  here,  as  well  as  St.  Paul  at  Ephesus ;  and  to  view  the  church 
thronged  only  with  troops  of  auditors,  not  of  horse.  This  I  could 
fully  have  acquiesced  in,  and  received  a  large  personal  reward  in  my 
particular  share  of  the  public  joy ;  but  since  you  are  further  pleased, 
I  will  not  say  by  your  judgment  to  approve,  but  by  your  acceptance 
to  encourage  the  raw  endeavors  of  a  young  divine,  I  shall  take  it  for 
an  opportunity,  not  as  others  in  their  sage  prudence  use  to  do,  to 
quote  three  or  four  texts  of  scripture,  and  to  tell  you  how  you  are  to 
rule  the  city  out  of  a  concordance  ;  no,  I  bring  not  instructions,  but 
what  much  better  befits  both  you  and  myself,  your  commendations. 
For  I  look  upon  your  city  as  the  great  and  magnificent  stage  of 
business,  and  by  consequence  the  best  place  of  improvement ;  for 
from  the  school  we  go  to  the  university,  but  from  the  universities  to 


22  The  Epistle  Dedicatory. 

London.  And  therefore  as  in  your  city  meetings  you  must  be 
esteemed  the  most  considerable  body  of  the  nation ;  so,  met  in  the 
church,  I  look  upon  you  as  an  auditory  fit  to  be  waited  on,  as  you 
are,  by  both  universities.  And  when  I  remember  how  instrumental 
you  have  been  to  recover  this  universal  settlement,  and  to  retrieve 
the  old  spirit  of  loyalty  to  kings,  (as  an  ancient  testimony  of  which 
you  bear  not  the  sword  in  vain  ;)  I  seem  in  a  manner  deputed  from 
Oxford,  not  so  much  a  preacher  to  supply  a  course,  as  orator  to  pre 
sent  her  thanks.  As  for  the  ensuing  discourse,  which  (lest  I  chance 
to  be  traduced  for  a  plagiary  by  him  who  has  played  the  thief)  I 
think  fit  to  tell  the  world  by  the  way,  was  one  of  those  that  by  a 
worthy  hand  were  stolen  from  me  in  the  king's  chapel,  and  are  still 
detained ;  and  to  which  now  accidentally  published  by  your  honor's 
order,  your  patronage  must  give  both  value  and  protection.  You 
will  find  me  in  it  not  to  have  pitched  upon  any  subject,  that  men's 
guilt,  and  the  consequent  of  guilt,  their  concernment  might  render 
liable  to  exception ;  nor  to  have  rubbed  up  the  memory  of  what 
some  heretofore  in  the  city  did,  which  more  and  better  now  detest, 
and  therefore  expiate :  but  my  subject  is  inoffensive,  harmless,  and 
innocent  as  the  state  of  innocence  itself,  and  (I  hope)  suitable  to 
the  present  design  and  genius  of  this  nation  ;  which  is,  or  should  be, 
to  return  to  that  innocence,  which  it  lost  long  since  the  fall.  Briefly, 
my  business  is,  by  describing  what  man  was  in  his  first  estate,  to  up 
braid  him  with  what  he  is  in  his  present :  between  whom,  innocent 
and  fallen,  (that  in  a  word  I  may  suit  the  subject  to  the  place  of  my 
discourse,)  there  is  as  great  an  unlikeness,  as  between  St.  Paul's  a 
cathedral,  and  St.  Paul's  a  stable.  But  I  must  not  forestall  myself,, 
nor  transcribe  the  work  into  the  dedication.  I  shall  now  only  desire 
you  to  accept  the  issue  of  your  own  requests ;  the  gratification  of 
which  I  have  here  consulted  so  much  before  my  own  reputation ; 
while  like  the  poor  widow  I  endeavor  to  show  my  officiousness  by  an 
offering,  though  I  betray  my  poverty  by  the  measure ;  not  so  much 
caring,  though  I  appear  neither  preacher  nor  scholar,  (which  terms 
we  have  been  taught  upon  good  reason  to  distinguish,)  so  I  may  in 
this  but  show  myself 

Your  honors' 

very  humble  servant, 

ROBERT   SOUTH. 
WORCESTER-HOUSE. 
Nov.  24,  1662. 


.  i.  27.]  On  the  Creation  of  Man,  &c.  23 


GENESIS  i.  27.  —  So  God  created  man  in  his  own  image,  in  the  image  of  God  treated 

he  him. 

HOW  hard  it  is  for  natural  reason  to  discover  a  creation 
before  revealed,  or  being  revealed  to  believe  it,  the 
strange  opinions  of  the  old  philosophers,  and  the  infidelity 
of  modern  atheists,  is  too  sad  a  demonstration.  To  run  the 
world  back  to  its  first  original  and  infancy,  and  (as  it  were) 
to  view  nature  in  its  cradle,  to  trace  the  outgoings  of  the 
Ancient  of  days  in  the  first  instance  and  specimen  of  his 
creative  power,  is  a  research  too  great  for  any  mortal  in 
quiry  :  and  we  might  continue  our  scrutiny  to  the  end  of  the 
world,  before  natural  reason  would  be  able  to  find  out  when 
it  begun. 

Epicurus's  discourse  concerning  the  original  of  the  world 
is  so  fabulous  and  ridiculously  merry,  that  we  may  well  judge 
the  design  of  his  philosophy  to  have  been  pleasure,  and  not 
instruction. 

Aristotle  held,  that  it  streamed  by  connatural  result  and 
emanation  from  God,  the  infinite  and  eternal  mind,  as  the 
light  issues  from  the  sun ;  so  that  there  was  no  instant  of 
duration  assignable  of  God's  eternal  existence,  in  which  the 
world  did  not  also  coexist. 

Others  held  a  fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms ;  but  all  seem 
jointly  to  explode  a  creation ;  still  beating  upon  this  ground, 
that  to  produce  something  out  of  nothing  is  impossible  and 
incomprehensible  :  incomprehensible  indeed  I  grant,  but  not 
therefore  impossible.  There  is  not  the  least  transaction  of 
sense  and  motion  in  the  whole  man,  but  philosophers  are  at 
a  loss  to  comprehend,  I  am  sure  they  are  to  explain  it. 
Wherefore  it  is  not  always  rational  to  measure  the  truth  of 
an  assertion  by  the  standard  of  our  apprehension. 

But  to  bring  things  even  to  the  bare  perceptions  of  reason, 
I  appeal  to  any  one,  who  shall  impartially  reflect  upon  the 
ideas  and  conceptions  of  his  own  mind,  whether  he  doth  not 
find  it  as  easy  and  suitable  to  his  natural  notions,  to  conceive 
that  an  infinite  almighty  power  might  produce  a  thing  out 
of  nothing,  and  make  that  to  exist  de  novo,  which  did  not  ex 
ist  before ;  as  to  conceive  the  world  to  have  had  no  beginning, 


24  On  the  Creation  of  Man  [SERM.  n. 

but  to  have  existed  from  eternity :  which,  were  it  so  proper 
for  this  place  and  exercise,  I  could  easily  demonstrate  to  be 
attended  with  no  small  train  of  absurdities.  But  then,  be 
sides  that  the  acknowledging  of  a  creation  is  safe,  and  the 
denial  of  it  dangerous  and  irreligious,  and  yet  not  more  (per 
haps  much  less)  demonstrable  than  the  affirmative ;  so,  over 
and  above,  it  gives  me  this  advantage,  that,  let  it  seem  never 
so  strange,  uncouth,  and  impossible,  the  nonplus  of  my  rea 
son  will  yield  a  fairer  opportunity  to  my  faith. 

In  this  chapter,  we  have  God  surveying  the  works  of  the 
creation,  and  leaving  this  general  impress  or  character  upon 
them,  that  they  were  exceeding  good.  What  an  omnipotence 
wrought,  we  have  an  omniscience  to  approve.  But  as  it  is 
reasonable  to  imagine  that  there  is  more  of  design,  and  con 
sequently  more  of  perfection,  in  the  last  work,  we  have  God 
here  giving  his  last  stroke,  and  summing  up  all  into  man,  the 
whole  into  a  part,  the  universe  into  an  individual :  so  that, 
whereas  in  other  creatures  we  have  but  the  trace  of  his  foot 
steps,  in  man  we  have  the  draught  of  his  hand.  In  him 
were  united  all  the  scattered  perfections  of  the  creature ;  all 
the  graces  and  ornaments,  all  the  airs  and  features  of  being, 
were  abridged  into  this  small,  yet  full  system  of  nature  and 
divinity :  as  we  might  well  imagine  that  the  great  artificer 
would  be  more  than  ordinarily  exact  in  drawing  his  own  pic 
ture. 

The  work  that  I  shall  undertake  from  these  words,  shall 
be  to  show  what  this  image  of  God  in  man  is,  and  wherein  it 
doth  consist.  Which  I  shall  do  these  two  ways  :  1.  Nega 
tively,  by  showing  wherein  it  doth  not  consist.  2.  Positively, 
by  showing  wherein  it  does. 

For  the  first  of  these,  we  are  to  remove  the  erroneous 
opinion  of  the  Socinians.  They  deny  that  the  image  of 
God  consisted  in  any  habitual  perfections  that  adorned  the 
soul  of  Adam :  but  as  to  his  understanding  bring  him  in 
void  of  all  notion,  a  rude  unwritten  blank ;  making  him  to 
be  created  as  much  an  infant  as  others  are  born ;  sent  into 
the  world  only  to  read  and  spell  out  a  God  in  the  works  of 
creation,  to  learn  by  degrees,  till  at  length  his  understanding 
grew  up  to  the  stature  of  his  body.  Also  without  any  inher 
ent  habits  of  virtue  in  his  will ;  thus  divesting  him  of  all,  and 


GEN.  i.  27.]  in  the  linage  of  God.  25 

stripping1  him  to  his  bare  essence ;  so  that  all  the  perfection 
they  allowed  his  understanding  was  aptness  and  docility  ;  and 
all  that  they  attributed  to  his  will  was  a  possibility  to  be  vir 
tuous. 

But  wherein  then,  according-  to  their  opinion,  did  this 
image  of  God  consist?  Why,  in  that  power  and  dominion 
that  God  gave  Adam  over  the  creatures  :  in  that  he  was 
vouched  his  immediate  deputy  upon  earth,  the  viceroy  of  the 
creation,  and  lord  -  lieutenant  of  the  world.  But  that  this 
power  and  dominion  is  not  adequately  and  formally  the  image 
of  God,  but  only  a  part  of  it,  is  clear  from  hence ;  because 
then  he  that  had  most  of  this,  would  have  most  of  God's  im 
age  :  and  consequently  Nimrod  had  more  of  it  than  Noah, 
Saul  than  Samuel,  the  persecutors  than  the  martyrs,  and 
Caesar  than  Christ  himself,  which  to  assert  is  a  blasphemous 
paradox.  And  if  the  image  of  God  is  only  grandeur,  power, 
and  sovereignty,  certainly  we  have  been  hitherto  much  mis 
taken  in  our  duty :  and  hereafter  are  by  all  means  to  beware 
of  making  ourselves  unlike  God,  by  too  much  self-denial  and 
humility.  I  am  not  ignorant  that  some  may  distinguish  be 
tween  e£ovo-ia  and  Swa/xi?,  between  a  lawful  authority  and  an 
actual  power :  and  affirm,  that  God's  image  consists  only  in 
the  former ;  which  wicked  princes,  such  as  Saul  and  Nimrod, 
have  not,  though  they  possess  the  latter.  But  to  this  I 
answer, 

1.  That  the  scripture  neither  makes  nor  owns  such  a  dis 
tinction  :  nor  anywhere  asserts,  that  when  princes  begin  to 
be  wicked,  they  cease  of  right  to  be  governors.     And  to  this, 
that  when  God  renewed  this   charter  of  man's  sovereignty 
over  the  creatures  to  Noah  and  his  family,  we  find  no  excep 
tion  at  all,  but  that  Cham  stood  as  fully  invested  with  this 
right  as  any  of  his  brethren. 

2.  But  secondly;    this  savors  of   something  ranker  than 
Socinianism,  even  the  tenents  of  the  fifth  monarchy,  and  of 
sovereignty  founded  only  upon  saintship;  and  therefore  fit 
ter  to  be  answered  by  the  judge,  than  by  the  divine ;  and  to 
receive  its  confutation  at  the  bar  of  justice,  than  from  the 
pulpit. 

Having  now  made  our  way  through  this  false  opinion,  we 
are  in  the  next  place  to  lay  down  positively  what  this  image 


26  On  the  Creation  of  Man  [SERM.  IT. 

of  God  in  man  is.  It  is,  in  short,  that  universal  rectitude  of 
all  the  faculties  of  the  soul,  by  which  they  stand  apt  and  dis 
posed  to  their  respective  offices  and  operations :  which  will  be 
more  fully  set  forth,  by  taking  a  distinct  survey  of  it,  in  the 
several  faculties  belonging  to  the  soul. 

I.  In  the  understanding. 

II.  In  the  will. 

III.  In  the  passions  or  affections. 

I.  And  first  for  its  noblest  faculty,  the  understanding: 
it  was  then  sublime,  clear,  and  aspiring,  and,  as  it  were,  the 
soul's  upper  region,  lofty  and  serene,  free  from  the  vapors 
and  disturbances  of  the  inferior  affections.  It  was  the 
leading,  controlling  faculty ;  all  the  passions  wore  the  colors 
of  reason  ;  it  did  not  so  much  persuade,  as  command ;  it  was 
not  consul,  but  dictator.  Discourse  was  then  almost  as  quick 
as  intuition ;  it  was  nimble  in  proposing,  firm  in  concluding ; 
it  could  sooner  determine  than  now  it  can  dispute.  Like  the 
sun,  it  had  both  light  and  agility ;  it  knew  no  rest,  but  in 
motion ;  no  quiet,  but  in  activity.  It  did  not  so  properly 
apprehend,  as  irradiate  the  object ;  not  so  much  find,  as  make 
things  intelligible.  It  did  arbitrate  upon  the  several  reports 
of  sense,  and  all  the  varieties  of  imagination ;  not  like  a 
drowsy  judge,  only  hearing,  but  also  directing  their  verdict. 
In  sum,  it  was  vegete,  quick,  and  lively ;  open  as  the  day, 
untainted  as  the  morning,  full  of  the  innocence  and  spright- 
liness  of  youth ;  it  gave  the  soul  a  bright  and  a  full  view  into 
all  things ;  and  was  not  only  a  window,  but  itself  the  pros 
pect.  Briefly,  there  is  as  much  difference  between  the  clear 
representations  of  the  understanding  then,  and  the  obscure 
discoveries  that  it  makes  now,  as  there  is  between  the  pros 
pect  of  a  casement  and  of  a  key-hole. 

Now  as  there  are  two  great  functions  of  the  soul,  contem 
plation  and  practice,  according  to  that  general  division  of  ob 
jects,  some  of  which  only  entertain  our  speculation,  others 
also  employ  our  actions ;  so  the  understanding  with  relation 
to  these,  not  because  of  any  distinction  in  the  faculty  itself, 
is  accordingly  divided  into  speculative  and  practic ;  in  both 
of  which  the  image  of  God  was  then  apparent. 

1.  For  the  understanding  speculative.  There  are  some 
general  maxims  and  notions  in  the  mind  of  man,  which  are 


GEN.  i.  27.]  in  the  Image  of  God.  27 

the  rules  of  discourse,  and  the  basis  of  all  philosophy.  As, 
that  the  same  thing-  cannot  at  the  same  time  be,  and  not  be ; 
that  the  whole  is  bigger  than  a  part ;  that  two  proportions 
equal  to  a  third,  must  also  be  equal  to  one  another.  Aris 
totle,  indeed,  affirms  the  mind  to  be  at  first  a  mere  rasa 
tabula;  and  that  these  notions  are  not  ingenite,  and  im 
printed  by  the  finger  of  nature,  but  by  the  latter  and  more 
languid  impressions  of  sense ;  being  only  the  reports  of  ob 
servation,  and  the  result  of  so  many  repeated  experiments. 

But  to  this  I  answer  two  things : 

(1.)  That  these  notions  are  universal;  and  what  is  universal 
must  needs  proceed  from  some  universal,  constant  principle, 
the  same  in  all  particulars,  which  here  can  be  nothing  else 
but  human  nature. 

(2.)  These  can  not  be  infused  by  observation,  because  they 
are  the  rules  by  which  men  take  their  first  apprehensions  and 
observations  of  things,  and  therefore  in  order  of  nature  must 
needs  precede  them  :  as  the  being  of  the  rule  must  be  before 
its  application  to  the  thing  directed  by  it.  From  whence  it 
follows,  that  these  were  notions,  not  descending  from  us,  but 
born  with  us ;  not  our  offspring,  but  our  brethren  :  and  (as 
I  may  so  say)  such  as  we  were  taught  without  the  help  of  a 
teacher. 

Now  it  was  Adam's  happiness  in  the  state  of  innocence  to 
have  these  clear  and  unsullied.  He  came  into  the  world  a 
philosopher,  which  sufficiently  appeared  by  his  writing  the 
nature  of  things  upon  their  names ;  he  could  view  essences 
in  themselves,  and  read  forms  without  the  comment  of  their 
respective  properties :  he  could  see  consequents  yet  dormant 
in  their  principles,  and  effects  yet  unborn,  and  in  the  womb 
of  their  causes :  his  understanding  could  almost  pierce  into 
future  contingents,  his  conjectures  improving  even  to  proph 
ecy,  or  the  certainties  of  prediction;  till  his  fall,  it  was 
ignorant  of  nothing  but  of  sin ;  or  at  least  it  rested  in  the 
notion,  without  the  smart  of  the  experiment.  Could  any 
difficulty  have  been  proposed,  the  resolution  would  have  been 
as  early  as  the  proposal ;  it  could  not  have  had  time  to  settle 
into  doubt.  Like  a  better  Archimedes,  the  issue  of  all  his 
inquiries  was  an  evpr/Ka,  an  eupr/Ka,  the  offspring  of  his  brain 
without  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  Study  was  not  then  a  duty, 


28  On  the  Creation  of  Man  [SERM.  n. 

night-watchings  were  needless ;  the  light  of  reason  wanted 
not  the  assistance  of  a  candle.  This  is  the  doom  of  fallen 
man,  to  labor  in  the  fire,  to  seek  truth  in  pro/undo,  to  ex 
haust  his  time  and  impair  his  health,  and  perhaps  to  spin 
out  his  days,  and  himself,  into  one  pitiful,  controverted  con 
clusion.  There  was  then  no  poring,  no  struggling  with 
memory,  no  straining  for  invention :  his  faculties  were  quick 
and  expedite ;  they  answered  without  knocking,  they  were 
ready  upon  the  first  summons,  there  was  freedom  and  firm 
ness  in  all  their  operations.  I  confess,  it  is  difficult  for  us, 
who  date  our  ignorance  from  our  first  being,  and  were  still 
bred  up  with  the  same  infirmities  about  us  with  which  we 
were  born,  to  raise  our  thoughts  and  imagination  to  those 
intellectual  perfections  that  attended  our  nature  in  the  time 
of  innocence ;  as  it  is  for  a  peasant  bred  up  in  the  obscuri 
ties  of  a  cottage,  to  fancy  in  his  mind  the  unseen  splendors 
of  a  court.  But  by  rating  positives  by  their  privatives,  and 
other  arts  of  reason,  by  which  discourse  supplies  the  want 
of  the  reports  of  sense,  we  may  collect  the  excellency  of  the 
understanding  then,  by  the  glorious  remainders  of  it  now, 
and  guess  at  the  stateliness  of  the  building,  by  the  magnifi 
cence  of  its  ruins.  All  those  arts,  rarities,  and  inventions, 
which  vulgar  minds  gaze  at,  the  ingenious  pursue,  and  all 
admire,  are  but  the  relics  of  an  intellect  defaced  with  sin 
and  time.  We  admire  it  now,  only  as  antiquaries  do  a  piece 
of  old  coin,  for  the  stamp  it  once  bore,  and  not  for  those 
vanishing  lineaments  and  disappearing  draughts  that  remain 
upon  it  at  present.  And  certainly  that  must  needs  have  been 
very  glorious,  the  decays  of  which  are  so  admirable.  He 
that  is  comely,  when  old  and  decrepit,  surely  was  very  beau 
tiful  when  he  was  young.  An  Aristotle  was  but  the  rubbish 
of  an  Adam,  and  Athens  but  the  rudiments  of  Paradise. 

2.  The  image  of  God  was  no  less  resplendent  in  that  which 
we  call  man's  practical  understanding ;  namely,  that  store 
house  of  the  soul,  in  which  are  treasured  up  the  rules  of 
action  and  the  seeds  of  morality.  Where,  we  must  observe, 
that  many  who  deny  all  connate  notions  in  the  speculative 
intellect,  do  yet  admit  them  in  this.  Now  of  this  sort  are 
these  maxims ;  that  God  is  to  be  worshiped  ;  that  parents 
are  to  be  honored ;  that  a  man's  word  is  to  be  kept,  and  the 


GEN.  i.  27.]  in  the  Image  of  God.  29 

like :  which,  being  of  universal  influence,  as  to  the  regulation 
of  the  behavior  and  converse  of  mankind,  are  the  ground  of 
all  virtue  and  civility,  and  the  foundation  of  religion. 

It  was  the  privilege  of  Adam  innocent,  to  have  these  notions 
also  firm  and  untainted,  to  carry  his  monitor  in  his  bosom, 
his  law  in  his  heart,  and  to  have  such  a  conscience  as  might 
be  its  own  casuist:  and  certainly  those  actions  must  needs 
be  regular,  where  there  is  an  identity  between  the  rule  and 
the  faculty.  His  own  mind  taught  him  a  due  dependence 
upon  God,  and  chalked  out  to  him  the  just  proportions  and 
measures  of  behavior  to  his  fellow-creatures.  He  had  no 
catechism  but  the  creation,  needed  no  study  but  reflection, 
read  no  book,  but  the  volume  of  the  world,  and  that  too,  not 
for  rules  to  work  by,  but  for  objects  to  work  upon.  Reason 
was  his  tutor,  and  first  principles  his  magna  moralia.  The 
decalogue  of  Moses  was  but  a  transcript,  not  an  original. 
All  the  laws  of  nations,  and  wise  decrees  of  states,  the  stat 
utes  of  Solon,  and  the  twelve  tables,  were  but  a  paraphrase 
upon  this  standing  rectitude  of  nature,  this  fruitful  principle 
of  justice,  that  was  ready  to  run  out,  and  enlarge  itself  into 
suitable  determinations,  upon  all  emergent  objects  and  occa- 
tions.  Justice  then  was  neither  blind  to  discern,  nor  lame 
to  execute.  It  was  not  subject  to  be  imposed  upon  by  a  de 
luded  fancy,  nor  yet  to  be  bribed  by  a  glozing  appetite,  for 
an  utile  or  jucundum  to  turn  the  balance  to  a  false  and  dis 
honest  sentence.  In  all  its  directions  of  the  inferior  facul 
ties,  it  conveyed  its  suggestions  with  clearness,  and  enjoined 
them  with  power ;  it  had  the  passions  in  perfect  subjection ; 
and  though  its  command  over  them  was  but  suasive  and  po 
litical,  yet  it  had  the  force  of  coaction,  and  despotical.  It 
was  not  then,  as  it  is  now,  where  the  conscience  has  only 
power  to  disapprove,  and  to  protest  against  the  exorbitances 
of  the  passions ;  and  rather  to  wish,  than  make  them  other 
wise.  The  voice  of  conscience  now  is  low  and  weak,  chastis 
ing  the  passions,  as  old  Eli  did  his  lustful,  domineering  sons ; 
Not  so,  my  sons,  not  so  ;  but  the  voice  of  conscience  then  was 
not,  This  should,  or  This  ought  to  be  done ;  but,  This  must, 
This  shall  be  done.  It  spoke  like  a  legislator ;  the  thing 
spoke  was  a  law;  and  the  manner  of  speaking  it  a  new  obli 
gation.  In  short,  there  was  as  great  a  disparity  between  the 


30  On  the  Creation  of  Man  [SEBM.  n. 

practical  dictates  of  the  understanding  then  and  now,  as  there 
is  between  empire  and  advice,  counsel  and  command,  between 
a  companion  and  a  governor. 

And  thus  much  for  the  image  of  God,  as  it  shone  in  man's 
understanding. 

II.  Let  us  in  the  next  place  take  a  view  of  it,  as  it  was 
stamped  upon  the  will.  It  is  much  disputed  by  divines  con 
cerning  the  power  of  man's  will  to  good  and  evil  in  the  state 
of  innocence;  and  upon  very  nice  and  dangerous  precipices 
stand  their  determinations  on  either  side.  Some  hold,  that 
God  invested  him  with  a  power  to  stand,  so  that  in  the 
strength  of  that  power  received,  he  might,  without  the 
auxiliaries  of  any  further  influence,  have  determined  his  will 
to  a  full  choice  of  good.  Others  hold,  that  notwithstanding 
this  power,  yet  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  exert  it  in  any 
good  action,  without  a  superadded  assistance  of  grace,  actu 
ally  determining  that  power  to  the  certain  production  of  such 
an  act.  So  that,  whereas  some  distinguish  between  sufficient 
and  effectual  grace  ;  they  order  the  matter  so  as  to  acknowl 
edge  none  sufficient,  but  what  is  indeed  effectual,  and  actually 
productive  of  a  good  action.  I  shall  not  presume  to  interpose 
dogmatically  in  a  controversy,  which  I  look  never  to  see  de 
cided.  But  concerning  the  latter  of  these  opinions,  I  shall 
only  give  these  two  remarks  : 

1.  That  it  seems  contrary  to  the  common  and  natural  con 
ceptions  of  all  mankind,  who  acknowledge  themselves  able 
and  sufficient  to  do  many  things,  which  actually  they  never 
do. 

2.  That  to  assert,  that  God  looked  upon  Adam's  fall  as  a 
sin,  and  punished  it  as  such,  when,  without  any  antecedent 
sin  of  his,  he  withdrew  that  actual  grace  from  him,  upon  the 
withdrawing  of  which,  it  was  impossible  for  him  not  to  fall, 
seems  a  thing  that  highly  reproaches  the  essential  equity  and 
goodness  of  the  divine  nature. 

Wherefore,  doubtless  the  will  of  man  in  the  state  of  inno 
cence  had  an  entire  freedom,  a  perfect  equipeudency  and  in 
difference  to  either  part  of  the  contradiction,  to  stand,  or  not 
to  stand ;  to  accept,  or  not  accept  the  temptation.  I  will 
grant  the  will  of  man  now  to  be  as  much  a  slave  as  any  one 
will  have  it,  and  be  only  free  to  sin ;  that  is,  instead  of  a 


GEN.  i.  27.]  in  the  Image  of  God.  31 

liberty,  to  have  only  a  licentiousness ;  yet  certainly  this  is  not 
nature,  but  chance.  We  were  not  born  crooked ;  we  learnt 
these  windings  and  turnings  of  the  serpent :  and  therefore  it 
can  not  but  be  a  blasphemous  piece  of  ingratitude  to  ascribe 
them  to  God,  and  to  make  the  plague  of  our  nature  the  con 
dition  of  our  creation. 

The  will  was  then  ductile,  and  pliant  to  all  the  motions  of 
right  reason ;  it  met  the  dictates  of  a  clarified  understand 
ing  half  way.  And  the  active  informations  of  the  intellect, 
filling  the  passive  reception  of  the  will,  like  form  closing 
with  matter,  grew  actuate  into  a  third,  and  distinct  perfection 
of  practice  :  the  understanding  and  will  never  disagreed ;  for 
the  proposals  of  the  one  never  thwarted  the  inclinations  of 
the  other.  Yet  neither  did  the  will  servilely  attend  upon  the 
understanding,  but  as  a  favorite  does  upon  his  prince,  where 
the  service  is  privilege  and  preferment ;  or  as  Solomon's  ser 
vants  waited  upon  him,  it  admired  its  wisdom,  and  heard  its 
prudent  dictates  and  counsels,  both  the  direction  and  the  re 
ward  of  its  obedience.  It  is  indeed  the  nature  of  this  faculty 
to  follow  a  superior  guide,  to  be  drawn  by  the  intellect ;  but 
then  it  was  drawn  as  a  triumphant  chariot,  which  at  the 
same  time  both  follows  and  triumphs ;  while  it  obeyed  this,  it 
commanded  the  other  faculties.  It  was  subordinate,  not  en 
slaved  to  the  understanding :  not  as  a  servant  to  a  master, 
but  as  a  queen  to  her  king,  who  both  acknowledges  a  subjec 
tion,  and  yet  retains  a  majesty. 

Pass  we  now  downward  from  man's  intellect  and  will, 
III.  To  the  passions,  which  have  their  residence  and  situa 
tion  chiefly  in  the  sensitive  appetite.  For  we  must  know, 
that  inasmuch  as  man  is  a  compound,  and  mixture  of  flesh 
as  well  as  spirit,  the  soul,  during  its  abode  in  the  body,  does 
all  things  by  the  mediation  of  these  passions  and  inferior 
affections.  And  here  the  opinion  of  the  Stoics  was  famous 
and  singular,  who  looked  upon  all  these  as  sinful  defects  and 
irregularities,  as  so  many  deviations  from  right  reason, 
making  passion  to  be  only  another  word  for  perturbation. 
Sorrow,  in  their  esteem,  was  a  sin,  scarce  to  be  expiated  by 
another;  to  pity,  was  a  fault;  to  rejoice,  an  extravagance; 
and  the  Apostle's  advice,  to  be  angry  and  sin  not,  was  a  con 
tradiction  in  their  philosophy.  But  in  this,  they  were  con- 


32  On  the  Creation  of  Man  [SERM.  n. 

stantly  outvoted  by  other  sects  of  philosophers,  neither  for 
fame  nor  number  less  than  themselves  :  so  that  all  arguments 
brought  against  them  from  divinity  would  come  in  by  way 
of  overplus  to  their  confutation.  To  us  let  this  be  sufficient, 
that  our  Saviour  Christ,  who  took  upon  him  all  our  natural 
infirmities,  but  none  of  our  sinful,  has  been  seen  to  weep,  to 
be  sorrowful,  to  pity,  and  to  be  angry :  which  shows  that 
there  might  be  gall  iii  a  dove,  passion  without  sin,  fire  with 
out  smoke,  and  motion  without  disturbance.  For  it  is  not 
bare  agitation,  but  the  sediment  at  the  bottom,  that  troubles 
and  defiles  the  water :  and  when  we  see  it  windy  and  dusty, 
the  wind  does  not  (as  we  use  to  say)  make,  but  only  raise  a 
dust. 

Now,  though  the  schools  reduce  all  the  passions  to  these 
two  heads,  the  concupiscible,  and  the  irascible  appetite ;  yet 
I  shall  not  tie  myself  to  an  exact  prosecution  of  them  under 
this  division ;  but  at  this  time,  leaving  both  their  terms  and 
their  method  to  themselves,  consider  only  the  principal  and 
most  noted  passions,  from  whence  we  may  take  an  estimate 
of  the  rest. 

And  first,  for  the  grand  leading  affection  of  all,  which  is 
love.  This  is  the  great  instrument  and  engine  of  nature, 
the  bond  and  cement  of  society,  the  spring  and  spirit  of  the 
universe.  Love  is  such  an  affection,  as  can  not  so  properly 
be  said  to  be  in  the  soul,  as  the  soul  to  be  in  that.  It  is 
the  whole  man  wrapt  up  into  one  desire;  all  the  powers, 
vigor,  and  faculties  of  the  soul  abridged  into  one  inclina 
tion.  And  it  is  of  that  active,  restless  nature,  that  it  must 
of  necessity  exert  itself;  and  like  the  fire,  to  which  it  is  so 
often  compared,  it  is  not  a  free  agent,  to  choose  whether  it 
will  heat  or  no,  but  it  streams  forth  by  natural  results  and 
unavoidable  emanations.  So  that  it  will  fasten  upon  any 
inferior,  unsuitable  object,  rather  than  none  at  all.  The  soul 
may  sooner  leave  off  to  subsist,  than  to  love ;  and,  like  the 
vine,  it  withers  and  dies,  if  it  has  nothing  to  embrace.  Now 
this  affection  in  the  state  of  innocence  was  happily  pitched 
upon  its  right  object ;  it  flamed  up  in  direct  fervors  of  de 
votion  to  God,  and  in  collateral  emissions  of  charity  to  its 
neighbor.  It  was  not  then  only  another  and  more  cleanly 
name  for  lust.  It  had  none  of  those  impure  heats,  that 


GE*.  i.  27.]  in  the  Image  of  God.  33 

both  represent  and  deserve  hell.  It  was  a  vestal,  and  a  vir 
gin  fire,  and  differed  as  much  from  that  which  usually  passes 
by  this  name  nowadays,  as  the  vital  heat  from  the  burning  of 
a  fever. 

Then,  for  the  contrary  passion  of  hatred.  This,  we  know, 
is  the  passion  of  defiance,  and  there  is  a  kind  of  aversation 
and  hostility  included  in  its  very  essence  and  being.  But 
then,  (if  there  could  have  been  hatred  in  the  world,  when 
there  was  scarce  any  thing  odious,)  it  would  have  acted  within 
the  compass  of  its  proper  object.  Like  aloes,  bitter  indeed, 
but  wholesome.  There  would  have  been  no  rancor,  no  ha 
tred  of  our  brother :  an  innocent  nature  could  hate  nothing 
that  was  innocent.  In  a  word,  so  great  is  the  commutation, 
that  the  soul  then  hated  only  that  which  now  only  it  loves, 
that  is,  sin. 

And  if  we  may  bring  anger  under  this  head,  as  being,  ac 
cording  to  some,  a  transient  hatred,  or  at  least  fery  like  it : 
this  also,  as  unruly  as  now  it  is,  yet  then  it  vented  itself  by 
the  measures  of  reason.  There  was  no  such  thing  as  the 
transports  of  malice,  or  the  violences  of  revenge :  no  ren 
dering  evil  for  evil,  when  evil  was  truly  a  nonentity,  and  no 
where  to  be  found.  Anger  then  was  like  the  sword  of  jus 
tice,  keen,  but  innocent  and  righteous :  it  did  not  act  like 
fury,  and  then  call  itself  zeal.  It  always  espoused  God's 
honor,  and  never  kindled  upon  any  thing  but  in  order  to  a 
sacrifice.  It  sparkled  like  the  coal  upon  the  altar,  with  the 
fervors  of  piety,  the  heats  of  devotion,  the  sallies  and  vibra 
tions  of  an  harmless  activity.  In  the  next  place,  for  the 
lightsome  passion  of  joy.  It  was  not  that,  which  now  often 
usurps  this  name ;  that  trivial,  vanishing,  superficial  thing, 
that  only  gilds  the  apprehension,  and  plays  upon  the  surface 
of  the  soul.  It  was  not  the  mere  crackling  of  thorns,  a  sud 
den  blaze  of  the  spirits,  the  exultation  of  a  tickled  fancy  or 
a  pleased  appetite.  Joy  was  then  a  masculine  and  a  severe 
thing ;  the  recreation  of  the  judgment,  the  jubilee  of  reason. 
It  was  the  result  of  a  real  good,  suitably  applied.  It  com 
menced  upon  the  solidities  of  truth  and  the  substance  of 
fruition.  It  did  not  run  out  in  voice,  or  undecent  eruptions, 
but  filled  the  soul,  as  God  does  the  universe,  silently  and 
without  noise.  It  was  refreshing,  but  composed;  like  the 

VOL.  I.  3 


34  On  the  Creation  of  Man  [SERM.  n. 

pleasantness  of  youth  tempered  with  the  gravity  of  age ;  or 
the  mirth  of  a  festival  managed  with  the  silence  of  contem 
plation. 

And,  on  the  other  side*  for  sorrow.  Had  any  loss  or  dis 
aster  made  but  room  for  grief,  it  would  have  moved  according 
to  the  severe  allowances  of  prudence,  and  the  proportions  of 
the  provocation.  It  would  not  have  sallied  out  into  com 
plaint  or  loudness,  nor  spread  itself  upon  the  face,  and  writ 
sad  stories  upon  the  forehead.  No  wringing  of  the  hands, 
knocking  the  breast,  or  wishing  one's  self  unborn ;  all  which 
are  but  the  ceremonies  of  sorrow,  the  pomp  and  ostentation 
of  an  effeminate  grief:  which  speak,  not  so  much  the  great 
ness  of  the  misery,  as  the  smallness  of  the  mind.  Tears  may 
spoil  the  eyes,  but  not  wash  away  the  affliction.  Sighs  may 
exhaust  the  man,  but  not  eject  the  burden.  Sorrow  then 
would  have  been  as  silent  as  thoughts,  as  severe  as  philoso"- 
phy.  It  would  have  rested  in  inward  senses,  tacit  dislikes ; 
and  the  whole  scene  of  it  been  transacted  in  sad  and  silent 
reflections. 

Then  again  for  hope.  Though  indeed  the  fullness  and 
affluence  of  man's  enjoyments  in  the  state  of  innocence, 
might  seem  to  leave  no  place  for  hope,  in  respect  of  any 
further  addition,  but  only  of  the  prorogation,  and  future  con 
tinuance  of  what  already  he  possessed :  yet  doubtless,  God, 
who  made  no  faculty,  but  also  provided  it  with  a  proper  ob 
ject,  upon  which  it  might  exercise  and  lay  out  itself,  even 
in  its  greatest  innocence,  did  then  exercise  man's  hopes*  with 
the  expectations  of  a  better  paradise,  or  a  more  intimate  ad 
mission  to  himself.  For  it  is  not  imaginable,  that  Adam 
could  fix  upon  such  poor,  thin  enjoyments,  as  riches,  pleasure, 
and  the  gayeties  of  an  animal  life.  Hope  indeed  was  always 
the  anchor  of  the  soul,  yet  certainly  it  was  not  to  catch  or 
fasten  upon  such  mud.  And  if,  as  the  Apostle  says,  no  man 
hopes  for  that  which  he  sees,  much  less  could  Adam  then  hope 
for  such  things  as  he  saw  through. 

And  lastly,  for  the  affection  of  fear.  It  was  then  the  in 
strument  of  caution,  not  of  anxiety ;  a  guard,  and  not  a  tor 
ment  to  the  breast  that  had  it.  It  is  now  indeed  an  unhap- 
piness,  the  disease  of  the  soul :  it  flies  from  a  shadow,  and 
makes  more  dangers  than  it  avoids :  it  weakens  the  judg- 


GEN.  i.  27.]  in  tJie  Image  of  God.  35 

ment,  and  betrays  the  succors  of  reason :  so  hard  is  it  to 
tremble  and  not  to  err,  and  to  hit  the  mark  with  a  shaking 
hand.  Then  it  fixed  upon  him  who  is  only  to  be  feared,  God : 
and  yet  with  a  filial  fear,  which  at  the  same  time  both  fears 
and  loves.  It  was  awe  without  amazement,  dread  without 
distraction.  There  was  then  a  beauty  even  in  this  very  pale 
ness.  It  was  the  color  of  devotion,  giving  a  lustre  to  rever 
ence,  and  a  gloss  to  humility. 

Thus  did  the  passions  then  act  without  any  of  their 
present  jars,  combats,  or  repugnances;  all  moving  with  the 
beauty  of  uniformity,  and  the  stillness  of  composure.  Like 
a  well  -  governed  army,  not  for  fighting,  but  for  rank  and 
order.  I  confess  the  scripture  does  not  expressly  attribute 
these  several  endowments  to  Adam  in  his  first  estate.  But 
all  that  I  have  said,  and  much  more,  may  be  drawn  out  of 
that  short  aphorism,  God  made  man  upright,  Eccl.  vii.  29. 
And  since  the  opposite  weaknesses  now  infest  the  nature  of 
man  fallen,  if  we  will  be  true  to  the  rule  of  contraries,  we 
must  conclude,  that  those  perfections  were  the  lot  of  man 
innocent. 

Now  from  this  so  exact  and  regular  composure  of  the 
faculties,  all  moving  in  their  due  place,  each  striking  in  its 
proper  time,  there  arose,  by  natural  consequence,  the  crown 
ing  perfection  of  all,  a  good  conscience.  For,  as  in  the 
body,  when  the  principal  parts,  as  the  heart  and  liver,  do 
their  offices,  and  all  the  inferior,  smaller  vessels  act  orderly 
and  duly,  there  arises  a  sweet  enjoyment  upon  the  whole, 
which  we  call  health:  so  in  the  soul,  when  the  supreme 
faculties  of  the  will  and  understanding  move  regularly,  the 
inferior  passions  and  affections  following,  there  arises  a 
serenity  and  complacency  upon  the  whole  soul,  infinitely  be 
yond  the  greatest  bodily  pleasures,  the  highest  quintessence 
and  elixir  of  worldly  delights.  There  is  in  this  case  a  kind 
of  fragrancy,  and  spiritual  perfume  upon  the  conscience ; 
much  like  what  Isaac  spoke  of  his  son's  garments ;  that  the 
scent  of  them  was  like  the  smell  of  a  field  which  the  Lord  had 
blessed.  Such  a  freshness  and  flavor  is  there  upon  the  soul, 
when  daily  watered  with  the  actions  of  a  virtuous  life.  What 
soever  is  pure  is  also  pleasant. 

Having  thus  surveyed  the  image  of   God  in  the  soul  of 


36  On  the  Creation  of  Man  [SEEM.  n. 

man,  we  are  not  to  omit  now  those  characters  of  majesty  that 
God  imprinted  upon  the  body.  He  drew  some  traces  of  his 
image  upon  this  also ;  as  much  as  a  spiritual  substance  could 
be  pictured  upon  a  corporeal.  As  for  the  sect  of  the  Anthro- 
pomorphites,  who  from  hence  ascribe  to  God  the  figure  of  a 
man,  eyes,  hands,  feet,  and  the  like,  they  are  too  ridiculous 
to  deserve  a  confutation.  They  would  seem  to  draw  this  im 
piety  from  the  letter  of  the  scripture  sometimes  speaking  of 
God  in  this  manner.  Absurdly ;  as  if  the  mercy  of  scripture 
expressions  ought  to  warrant  the  blasphemy  of  our  opinions. 
And  not  rather  show  us,  that  God  condescends  to  us,  only  to 
draw  us  to  himself;  and  clothes  himself  in  our  likeness,  only 
to  win  us  to  his  own.  The  practice  of  the  papists  is  much  of 
the  same  nature,  in  their  absurd  and  impious  picturing  of 
God  Almighty  :  but  the  wonder  in  them  is  the  less,  since  the 
image  of  a  deity  may  be  a  proper  object  for  that,  which  is 
but  the  image  of  a  religion.  But  to  the  purpose  :  Adam 
was  then  no  less  glorious  in  his  externals ;  he  had  a  beautiful 
body,  as  well  as  an  immortal  soul.  The  whole  compound  was 
like  a  well  -  built  temple,  stately  without,  and  sacred  within. 
The  elements  were  at  perfect  union  and  agreement  in  his 
body ;  and  their  contrary  qualities  served  not  for  the  disso 
lution  of  the  compound,  but  the  variety  of  the  composure. 
Galen,  who  had  no  more  divinity  than  what  his  physic  taught 
him,  barely  upon  the  consideration  of  this  so  exact  frame  of 
the  body,  challenges  any  one  upon  an  hundred  years  study, 
to  find  how  any  the  least  fibre,  or  most  minute  particle, 
might  be  more  commodiously  placed,  either  for  the  advan 
tage  of  use  or  comeliness ;  his  stature  erect,  and  tending  up 
wards  to  his  centre;  his  countenance  majestic  and  comely, 
with  the  lustre  of  a  native  beauty,  that  scorned  the  poor  as 
sistance  of  art,  or  the  attempts  of  imitation ;  his  body  of  so 
much  quickness  and  agility,  that  it  did  not  only  contain,  but 
also  represent  the  soul :  for  we  might  well  suppose,  that 
where  God  did  deposit  so  rich  a  jewel,  he  would  suitably 
adorn  the  case.  It  was  a  fit  workhouse  for  sprightly  vivid 
faculties  to  exercise  and  exert  themselves  in.  A  fit  taber 
nacle  for  an  immortal  soul,  not  only  to  dwell  in,  but  to  con 
template  upon  :  where  it  might  see  the  world  without  travel ; 
it  being  a  lesser  scheme  of  the  creation,  nature  contracted,  a 


GEN.  i.  27.]  in  flw  Image  of  God.  37 

little  cosmography,  or  map  of  the  universe.  Neither  was 
the  body  then  subject  to  distempers,  to  die  by  piecemeal, 
and  languish  under  coughs,  catarrhs,  or  consumptions. 
Adam  knew  no  disease,  so  long  as  temperance  from  the 
forbidden  fruit  secured  him.  Nature  was  his  physician ;  and 
innocence  and  abstinence  would  have  kept  him  healthful  to 
immortality. 

Now  the  use  of  this  point  might  be  various,  but  at  present 
it  shall  be  only  this ;  to  remind  us  of  the  irreparable  loss 
that  we  sustained  in  our  first  parents,  to  show  us  of  how  fair 
a  portion  Adam  disinherited  his  whole  posterity  by  one  single 
prevarication.  Take  the  picture  of  a  man  in  the  greenness 
and  vivacity  of  his  youth,  and  in  the  latter  date  and  declen 
sions  of  his  drooping  years,  and  you  will  scarce  know  it  to 
belong  to  the  same  person :  there  would  be  more  art  to  dis 
cern,  than  at  first  to  draw  it.  The  same  and  greater  is  the 
difference  between  man  innocent  and  fallen.  He  is,  as  it 
were,  a  new  kind  or  species ;  the  plague  of  sin  has  even  al 
tered  his  nature,  and  eaten  into  his  very  essentials.  The 
image  of  God  is  wiped  out,  the  creatures  have  shook  off  his 
yoke,  renounced  his  sovereignty,  and  revolted  from  his  do 
minion.  Distempers  and  diseases  have  shattered  the  excel 
lent  frame  of  his  body ;  and,  by  a  new  dispensation,  immor 
tality  is  swallowed  up  of  mortality.  The  same  disaster  and 
decay  also  has  invaded  his  spirituals :  the  passions  rebel, 
every  faculty  would  usurp  and  rule ;  and  there  are  so  many 
governors,  that  there  can  be  no  government.  The  light 
within  us  is  become  darkness  ;  and  the  understanding,  that 
should  be  eyes  to  the  blind  faculty  of  the  will,  is  blind  itself, 
and  so  brings  all  the  inconveniences  that  attend  a  blind  fol 
lower  under  the  conduct  of  a  blind  guide.  He  that  wo  ;ld 
have  a  clear,  ocular  demonstration  of  this,  let  him  reflect 
upon  that  numerous  litter  of  strange,  senseless,  absurd  opin 
ions,  that  crawl  about  the  world,  to  the  disgrace  of  reason, 
and  the  unanswerable  reproach  of  a  broken  intellect. 

The  two  great  perfections,  that  both  adorn  and  exercise 
man's  understanding,  are  philosophy  and  religion :  for  the 
first  of  these ;  take  it  even  amongst  the  professors  of  it, 
where  it  most  flourished,  and  we  shall  find  the  very  first  no 
tions  of  common  sense  debauched  by  them.  For  there  have 


38  On  the  Creation  of  Han  [SEEM.  n. 

been  such  as  have  asserted,  that  there  is  no  such  thing-  in  the 
world  as  motion  ;  that  contradictions  may  be  true.  There  has 
not  been  wanting  one,  that  has  denied  snow  to  be  white. 
Such  a  stupidity  or  wantonness  had  seized  upon  the  most 
raised  wits,  that  it  might  be  doubted,  whether  the  philoso 
phers  or  the  owls  of  Athens  were  the  quicker  sighted.  But 
then  for  religion ;  what  prodigious,  monstrous,  misshapen 
births  has  the  reason  of  fallen  man  produced  !  It  is  now  al 
most  six  thousand  years,  that  far  the  greatest  part  of  the 
world  has  had  no  other  religion  but  idolatry:  and  idolatry 
certainly  is  the  first-born  of  folly,  the  great  and  leading  para 
dox  ;  nay,  the  very  abridgment  and  sum  total  of  all  absurdi 
ties.  For  is  it  not  strange,  that  a  rational  man  should  wor 
ship  an  ox,  nay,  the  image  of  an  ox?  that  he  should  fawn 
upon  his  dog?  bow  himself  before  a  cat?  adore  leeks  and 
garlic,  and  shed  penitential  tears  at  the  smell  of  a  deified 
onion  ?  Yet  so  did  the  Egyptians,  once  the  famed  masters 
of  all  arts  and  learning.  And  to  go  a  little  further ;  we  have 
yet  a  stranger  instance  in  Isa.  xliv.  14,  A  man  hews  him 
down  a  tree  in  the  wood,  and  part  of  it  he  burns,  in  ver.  16.  and 
in  ver.  17,  with  the  residue  thereof  he  maketh  a  god.  With  one 
part  he  furnishes  his  chimney,  with  the  other  his  chapel.  A 
strange  thing,  that  the  fire  must  consume  this  part,  and  then 
burn  incense  to  that.  As  if  there  was  more  divinity  in  one 
end  of  the  stick  than  in  the  other ;  or  as  if  it  could  be 
graved  and  painted  omnipotent,  or  the  nails  and  the  ham 
mer  could  give  it  an  apotheosis.  Briefly,  so  great  is  the 
change,  so  deplorable  the  degradation  of  our  nature,  that, 
whereas  before  we  bore  the  image  of  God,  we  now  retain  only 
the  image  of  men. 

In  the  last  place,  we  learn  from  hence  the  excellency  of 
Christian  religion,  in  that  it  is  the  great  and  only  means  that 
God  has  sanctified  and  designed  to  repair  the  breaches  of  hu 
manity,  to  set  fallen  man  upon  his  legs  again,  to  clarify  his 
reason,  to  rectify  his  will,  and  to  compose  and  regulate  his  af 
fections.  The  whole  business  of  our  redemption  is,  in  short, 
only  to  rub  over  the  defaced  copy  of  the  creation,  to  reprint 
God's  image  upon  the  soul,  and  (as  it  were)  to  set  forth  nature 
in  a  second  and  a  fairer  edition. 


GEN.  i.  27.]  in  the  Image  of  God.  39 

The  recovery  of  which  lost  image,  as  it  is  God's  pleasure  to 
command,  and  our  duty  to  endeavor,  so  it  is  in  his  power  only 
to  effect. 

To  whom  he  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise, 
might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for  evermore. 
Amen. 


SERMON  III. 


INTEREST  DEPOSED,   AND   TRUTH  RESTORED: 
OR   A   WORD   IN   SEASON, 

DELIVERED  IN  TWO  SERMONS: 

THE  FIRST  AT  ST.  MARY'S  IN  OXFORD,  ON  THE  24TH  OF  JULY,  1659,  BEING  THE  TIME 
OF  THE  ASSIZES:  AS  ALSO  OF  THE  FEARS  AND  GROANS  OF  THE  NATION,  IN  THE 
THREATENED  AND  EXPECTED  RUIN  OF  THE  LAWS,  MINISTRY,  AND  UNIVERSITIES. 
THE  OTHER  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  HONORABLE  SOCIETY  OF  LINCOLN'S  INN. 


TO  THE  RIGHT  WORSHIPFUL  EDWARD  ATKINS,  SERGEANT-AT-LAW,  AND  FOR 
MERLY  ONE  OF  THE  JUSTICES  OF  THE  COMMON  PLEAS. 

HONORED  SIR, 

nnHOUGH  at  first  it  was  free,  and  in  my  choice,  whether  I  should 
-1-  publish  these  discourses,  yet  the  publication  being  once  re 
solved,  the  dedication  was  not  so  indifferent ;  the  nature  of  the  sub 
ject,  no  less  than  the  obligations  of  the  author,  styling  them  in  a 
peculiar  manner  yours:  for  since  their  drift  is  to  carry  the  most 
endangered  and  endangering  truth,  above  the  safest,  when  sinful, 
interest ;  as  a  practice  upon  grounds  of  reason  the  most  generous, 
and  of  Christianity  the  most  religious ;  to  whom  rather  should  this 
assertion  repair  as  to  a  patron,  than  to  him  whom  it  has  for  an  in 
stance  ?  Who,  in  a  case  of  eminent  competition,  chose  duty  before 
interest;  and  when  the  judge  grew  inconsistent  with  the  justice, 
preferred  rather  to  be  constant  to  sure  principles,  than  to  an  uncon- 
stant  government:  and  to  retreat  to  an  innocent  and  honorable 
privacy,  than  to  sit  and  act  iniquity  by  a  law;  and  make  your  age 
and  conscience  (the  one  venerable,  the  other  sacred)  drudges  to  the 
tyranny  of  fanatic,  purjured  usurpers.  The  next  attempt  of  this 
discourse  is  a  defense  of  the  ministry,  and  that,  at  such  a  time,  when 
none  owned  them  upon  the  bench,  (for  then  you  had  quitted  it ;) 
but  when,  on  the  contrary,  we  lived  to  hear  one  in  the  very  face 
of  the  university,  (as  it  were  in  defiance  of  us  and  our  profession,) 
openly  in  his  charge  to  defend  the  Quakers  and  fanatics,  persons 
not  fit  to  be  named  in  such  courts,  but  in  an  indictment.  But,  sir, 


The  Epistle  Dedicatory.  41 

in  the  instructions  I  here  presumed  to  give  to  others,  concerning 
what  they  should  do,  you  may  take  a  narrative  of  what  you  have 
done :  what  respected  their  actions  as  a  rule  or  admonition,  applied 
to  yours  is  only  a  rehearsal,  whose  zeal  in  asserting  the  ministerial 
cause  is  so  generally  known,  so  gratefully  acknowledged,  that  I  dare 
affirm,  that  in  what  I  deliver,  you  read  the  words  indeed  of  one,  but 
the  thanks  of  all.  Which  affectionate  concernment  of  yours  for 
them,  seems  to  argue  a  spiritual  sense,  and  experimental  taste  of 
their  works,  and  that  you  have  reaped  as  much  from  their  labors,  as 
others  have  done  from  their  lands :  for  to  me  it  seemed  always  strange, 
and  next  to  impossible,  that  a  man,  converted  by  the  word  preached, 
should  ever  hate  and  persecute  a  preacher.  And  since  you  have 
several  times  in  discourse  declared  yourself  for  that  government  in 
the  church,  which  is  founded  upon  scripture,  reason,  apostolical 
practice,  and  antiquity,  and  (we  are  sure)  the  only  one  that  can  con 
sist  with  the  present  government  of  state,  I  thought  the  latter  dis 
course  also  might  fitly  address  itself  to  you ;  in  the  which  you  may 
read  your  judgment,  as  in  the  other  your  practice.  And  now,  since 
it  has  pleased  Providence  at  length  to  turn  our  captivity,  and  an 
swer  persecuted  patience  with  the  unexpected  returns  of  settlement ; 
to  remove  our  rulers,  and  restore  our  ruler ;  and  not  only  to  make 
our  exactors  righteousness,  but,  what  is  better,  to  give  us  righteous 
ness  instead  of  exaction,  and  hopes  of  religion  to  a  church  worried 
with  reformation ;  I  believe,  upon  a  due  and  impartial  reflection  on 
what  is  past,  you  now  find  no  cause  to  repent,  that  you  never  dipt 
your  hands  in  the  bloody  high  courts  of  justice,  properly  so  called 
only  by  antiphrasis ;  nor  ever  prostituted  the  scarlet  robe  to  those 
employments,  in  which  you  must  have  worn  the  color  of  your  sin  in 
the  badge  of  your  office :  but,  notwithstanding  all  the  enticements  of 
a  prosperous  villainy,  abhorred  the  purchase,  when  the  price  was 
blood.  So  that  now,  being  privileged  by  an  happy  unconcernment 
in  those  legal  murders,  you  may  take  a  sweeter  relish  of  your  own 
innocence,  by  beholding  the  misery  of  others'  guilt,  who  being  guilty 
before  God,  and  infamous  before  men,  obnoxious  to  both,  begin  to 
find  the  first-fruits  of  their  sin  in  the  universal  scorn  of  all,  their 
apparent  danger,  and  unlikely  remedy:  which  beginnings  being  at 
length  consummated  by  the  hand  of  justice,  the  cry  of  blood  and 
sacrilege  will  cease,  men's  doubts  will  be  satisfied,  and  Providence 
absolved. 

And  thus,  sir,  having  presumed  to  honor  my  first  essays  in  di 
vinity,  by  prefixing  to  them  a  name,  to  which  divines  are  so  much 
obliged ;  I  should  here  in  the  close  of  this  address  contribute  a  wish 
at  least  to  your  happiness :  but  since  we  desire  it  not  yet  in  another 


42  Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.        [SERM.  in. 

world,  and  your  enjoyments  in  this  (according  to  the  standard  of  a 
Christian  desire)  are  so  complete,  that  they  require  no  addition  ;  I 
shall  turn  my  wishes  into  gratulations,  and  congratulating  their  full 
ness,  only  wish  their  continuance  :  praying  that  you  may  still  possess 
what  you  possess,  and  do  what  you  do  ;  that  is,  reflect  upon  a 
clear,  unblotted,  acquitting  conscience,  and  feed  upon  the  ineffable 
comforts  of  the  memorial  of  a  conquered  temptation,  without  the 
danger  of  returning  to  the  trial.  And  this,  sir,  I  account  the  great 
est  felicity  that  you  can  enjoy,  and  therefore  the  greatest  that  he  can 
desire,  who  is 

Yours  in  all  observance, 

Ch.  Ch.  25  of  ROBERT  SOUTH. 

May,  1660. 


MATTHEW  x.  33.  —  But  whosoever  shall  deny  me  before  men,  him  will  I  also  deny 
before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven. 

AS  the  great  comprehensive  gospel  duty  is  the  denial  of 
self,  so  the  grand  gospel  sin  that  confronts  it  is  the  de 
nial  of  Christ.  These  two  are  both  the  commanding  and  the 
dividing  principles  of  all  our  actions  :  for  whosoever  acts  in 
opposition  to  one,  does  it  always  in  behalf  of  the  other. 
None  ever  opposed  Christ,  but  it  was  to  gratify  self:  none 
ever  renounced  the  interest  of  self,  but  from  a  prevailing  love 
to  the  interest  of  Christ.  The  subject  I  have  here  pitched 
upon  may  seem  improper  in  these  times,  and  in  this  place, 
where  the  number  of  professors  and  of  men  is  the  same  ; 
where  the  cause  and  interest  of  Christ  has  been  so  cried  up  ; 
and  Christ's  personal  reign  and  kingdom  so  called  for  and 
expected.  But  since  it  has  been  still  preached  up,  but  acted 
down  ;  and  dealt  with,  as  the  eagle  in  the  fable  did  with  the 
oyster,  carrying  it  up  on  high,  that  by  letting  it  fall  he  might 
dash  it  in  pieces:  I  say,  since  Christ  must  reign,  but  his 
truths  be  made  to  serve  ;  I  suppose  it  is  but  reason  to  distin 
guish  between  profession  and  pretense,  and  to  conclude,  that 
men's  present  crying,  Hail  king,  and  bending  the  knee  to  Christ, 
are  only  in  order  to  his  future  crucifixion. 

For  the  discovery  of  the  sense  of  the  words,  I  shall  inquire 
into  their  occasion.  From  the  very  beginning  of  the  chapter 
we  have  Christ  consulting  the  propagation  of  the  gospel  ; 
and  in  order  to  it  (being  the  only  way  that  he  knew  to  effect 


MATT.  x.  33.]      Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.  43 

it)  sending-  forth  a  ministry  ;  and  giving  them  a  commission, 
together  with  instructions  for  the  execution  of  it.  He  would 
have  them  fully  acquainted  with  the  nature  and  extent  of 
their  office ;  and  so  he  joins  commission  with  instruction ;  by 
one  he  conveys  power,  by  the  other  knowledge.  Supposing 
(I  conceive)  that  upon  such  an  undertaking,  the  more  learned 
his  ministers  were,  they  would  prove  never  the  less  faithful.* 
And  thus  having  fitted  them,  and  stript  them  of  all  manner 
of  defense,  ver.  9,  he  sends  them  forth  amongst  wolves :  a  hard 
expedition,  you  will  say,  to  go  amongst  wolves ;  but  yet  much 
harder  to  convert  them  into  sheep ;  and  no  less  hard  even  to 
discern  some  of  them,  possibly  being  under  sheep's  clothing ; 
and  so  by  the  advantage  of  that  dress,  sooner  felt  than  dis 
covered:  probably  also  such  as  had  both  the  properties  of 
wolves,  that  is,  they  could  whine  and  howl,  as  well  as  bite  and 
devour.  But  that  they  might  not  go  altogether  naked  among 
their  enemies,  the  only  armor  that  Christ  allows  them  is 
prudence  and  innocence ;  Be  ye  wise  as  serpents,  but  harmless 
as  doves,  ver.  16.  Weapons  not  at  all  offensive,  yet  most 
suitable  to  their  warfare,  whose  greatest  encounters  were  to 
be  exhortations,  and  whose  only  conquest,  escape.  Innocence 
is  the  best  caution,  and  we  may  unite  the  expression,  to  be 
wise  as  a  serpent  is  to  be  harmless  as  a  dove.  Innocence  is  like 
polished  armor ;  it  adorns,  and  it  defends.  In  sum,  he  tells 
them,  that  the  opposition  they  should  meet  with  was  the 
greatest  imaginable,  from  ver.  16  to  26.  But  in  the  ensu 
ing  verses  he  promises  them  an  equal  proportion  of  assist 
ance  ;  and,  as  if  it  were  not  an  argument  of  force  enough  to 
outweigh  the  forementioned  discouragements,  he  casts  into 
the  balance  the  promise  of  a  reward  to  such  as  should  exe 
cute,  and  of  punishment  to  such  as  should  neglect  their 
commission  :  the  reward  in  the  former  verse,  Whosoever  shall 
confess  me  before  men,  &c.  the  punishment  in  this,  But  who 
soever  sliall  deny,  &c.  As  if  by  way  of  preoccupation  he 
should  have  said,  Well,  here  you  see  your  commission ;  this 
is  your  duty,  these  are  your  discouragements  :  never  seek  for 
shifts  and  evasions  from  worldly  afflictions ;  this  is  your  re 
ward,  if  you  perform  it ;  this  is  your  doom,  if  you  decline  it. 

*  In  the  parliament  1653,  it  being  learned  ministry,  the  latter  word  was 
put  to  the  vote,  whether  they  should  rejected,  and  the  vote  passed  for  a 
support  and  encourage  a  godly  and  godly  and  faithful  ministry. 


44  Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.        [SERM.  in. 

As  for  the  explication  of  the  words,  they  are  clear  and 
easy ;  and  their  originals  in  the  Greek  are  of  single  signifi 
cation,  without  any  ambiguity;  and  therefore  I  shall  not 
trouble  you,  by  proposing  how  they  run  in  this  or  that  edi 
tion  ;  or  straining  for  an  interpretation  where  there  is  no 
difficulty,  or  distinction  where  there  is  no  difference.  The 
only  exposition  that  I  shall  give  of  them,  will  be  to  compare 
them  to  other  parallel  scriptures,  and  peculiarly  to  that  in 
Mark  viii.  38.  Whosoever  therefore  shall  be  ashamed  of  me  and 
of  my  words  in  this  adulterous  and  sinful  generation  ;  of  him 
also  shall  the  Son  of  man  be  ashamed,  when  he  cometh  in  the 
glory  of  his  Father,  with  the  holy  angels.  These  words  are  a 
comment  upon  my  text. 

1.  What  is  here  in  the  text  called  a  denying  of  Christ,  is 
there  termed  a  being  ashamed  of  him,  that  is,  in  those  words 
the  cause  is  expressed,  and  here  the  effect ;  for  therefore  we 
deny  a  thing,  because  we  are  ashamed  of  it.     First,  Peter  is 
ashamed  of  Christ,  then  he  denies  him. 

2.  What  is  here  termed  a  denying  of  Christ,  is  there  called 
a  being  ashamed  of  Christ  and  his  words  :  Christ's  truths  are 
his  second  self.     And  he  that  offers  a  contempt  to  a  king's 
letters   or  edicts,  virtually  affronts  the  king;    it  strikes  his 
words,  but  it  rebounds  upon  his  person. 

3.  What  is  here  said,  before  men,  is  there  phrased,  in  this 
adulterous  and  sinful  generation.     These  words  import  the  hin- 
derance  of  the  duty  enjoined ;  which  therefore  is  here  pur 
posely   enforced  with  a  non  obstante  to  all  opposition.     The 
term  adulterous,  I  conceive,  may  chiefly  relate  to  the  Jews, 
who  being  nationally  espoused  to  God  by  covenant,  every  sin 
of  theirs  was  in  a  peculiar  manner  spiritual  adultery. 

4.  What  is  here  said,  I  will  deny  him  before  my  Father,  is 
there  expressed,  I  will  be  ashamed  of  him  before  my  Father  and 
his  holy  angels;   that  is,  when  he   shall  come  to  judgment, 
when  revenging  justice  shall  come  in  pomp,  attended  with 
the  glorious  retinue  of  all  the  host  of  heaven.     In  short,  the 
sentence  pronounced  declares  the  judgment,  the  solemnity  of 
it  the  terror. 

From  the  words  we  may  deduce  these  observations  : 
I.     We   shall  find   strong  motives  and  temptations  from 
men,  to  draw  us  to  a  denial  of  Christ. 


MATT.  x.  33.]      Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.  45 

II.  No  terrors  or  solicitations  from  men,  though  never  so 
great,  can  warrant  or  excuse  such  a  denial. 

III.  To  deny  Christ's  words,  is  to  deny  Christ. 

But  since  these  observations  are  rather  implied  than  ex 
pressed  in  the  words,  I  shall  wave  them,  and  instead  of  dedu 
cing  a  doctrine  distinct  from  the  words,  prosecute  the  words 
themselves  under  this  doctrinal  paraphrase : 

Whosoever  shall  deny,  disown,  or  be  ashamed  of  either  the  per 
son  or  truths  of  Jesus  Christ,  for  any  fear  or  favor  of  man,  shall 
with  shame  be  disowned  and  eternally  rejected  by  him  at  the 
dreadful  judgment  of  the  great  day. 

The  discussion  of  this  shall  lie  in  these  things  : 

I.  To  show,  how  many  ways  Christ  and  his  truths  may  he 
denied  ;  and  what  is  the  denial  here  chiefly  intended. 

II.  To  show,  what  are  the  causes  that  induce  men  to  a 
denial  of  Christ  and  his  truths. 

III.  To   show,  how  far  a  man  may  consult  his  safety  in 
time  of  persecution,  without  denying  Christ. 

IV.  To  show,  what  is  imported  in  Christ's  denying  us  he- 
fore  his  Father  in  heaven. 

Y.  To  apply  all  to  the  present  occasion. 

But  before  I  enter  upon  these,  I  must  briefly  premise  this, 
that  though  the  text  and  the  doctrine  run  peremptory  and 
absolute,  Whosoever  denies  Christ,  shall  assuredly  be  denied  by 
him  ;  yet  still  there  is  a  tacit  condition  in  the  words  sup 
posed,  unless  repentance  intervene.  For  this  and  many 
other  scriptures,  though  as  to  their  formal  terms  they  are 
absolute,  yet  as  to  their  sense  they  are  conditional.  God  in 
mercy  has  so  framed  and  tempered  his  word,  that  we  have, 
for  the  most  part,  a  reserve  of  mercy  wrapped  up  in  a  curse. 
And  the  very  first  judgment  that  was  pronounced  upon  fallen 
man,  was  with  the  allay  of  a  promise.  Wheresoever  we  find 
a  curse  to  the  guilty  expressed,  in  the  same  words  mercy  to 
the  penitent  is  still  understood.  This  premised,  I  come  now 
to  discuss  the  first  thing,  namely,  how  many  ways  Christ  and 
his  truths  may  be  denied,  &c.  Here  first  in  general  I  assert, 
that  we  may  deny  him  in  all  those  acts  that  are  capable  of 
being  morally  good  or  evil ;  those  are  the  proper  scene  in 
which  we  act  our  confessions  or  denials  of  him.  Accordingly 
therefore  all  ways  of  denying  Christ  I  shall  comprise  under 
these  three. 


46  Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.        [SERM.  in. 

1.  We  may  deny  him  and  his  truths  by  an  erroneous, 
heretical  judgment.  I  know  it  is  doubted  whether  a  bare 
error  in  judgment  can  condemn  :  but  since  truths  absolutely 
necessary  to  salvation  are  so  clearly  revealed,  that  we  cannot 
err  in  them,  unless  we  be  notoriously  wanting  to  ourselves  ; 
herein  the  fault  of  the  judgment  is  resolved  into  a  precedent 
default  in  the  will ;  and  so  the  case  is  put  out  of  doubt. 
But  here  it  may  be  replied,  Are  not  truths  of  absolute  and 
fundamental  necessity  very  disputable ;  as  the  deity  of  Christ, 
the  trinity  of  persons  ?  If  they  are  not  in  themselves  disput 
able,  why  are  they  so  much  disputed  ?  Indeed,  I  believe,  if 
we  trace  these  disputes  to  their  original  cause,  we  shall  find, 
that  they  never  sprung  from  a  reluctancy  in  reason  to  em 
brace  them.  For  this  reason  itself  dictates,  as  most  rational, 
to  assent  to  any  thing,  though  seemingly  contrary  to  reason, 
if  it  is  revealed  by  God,  and  we  are  certain  of  the  revelation. 
These  two  supposed,  these  disputes  must  needs  arise  only 
from  curiosity  and  singularity ;  and  these  are  faults  of  a  dis 
eased  will.  But  some  will  further  demand  in  behalf  of  these 
men,  whether  such  as  assent  to  every  word  in  scripture,  (for 
so  will  those  that  deny  the  natural  deity  of  Christ  and  the 
Spirit,)  can  be  yet  said  in  doctrinals  to  deny  Christ  ?  To  this 
I  answer,  Since  words  abstracted  from  their  proper  sense  and 
signification  lose  the  nature  of  words,  and  are  only  equivo 
cally  so  called ;  inasmuch  as  the  persons  we  speak  of,  take 
them  thus,  and  derive  the  letter  from  Christ,  but  the  signif 
ication  from  themselves,  they  can  not  be  said  properly  to 
assent  so  much  as  to  the  words  of  the  scripture.  And  so 
their  case  also  is  clear.  But  yet  more  fully  to  state  the  mat 
ter,  how  far  a  denial  of  Christ  in  belief  and  judgment  is 
damnable :  we  will  propose  the  question,  whether  those  who 
hold  the  fundamentals  of  faith  may  deny  Christ  damnably, 
in  respect  of  those  superstructures  and  consequences  that 
arise  from  them?  I  answer  in  brief,  By  fundemental  truths 
are  understood,,  (1.)  either  such,  without  the  belief  of  which 
we  can  not  be  saved:  or,  (2.)  such,  the  belief  of  which  is 
sufficient  to  save:  if  the  question  be  proposed  of  funda 
mentals  in  this  latter  sense,  it  contains  its  own  answer ;  for 
where  a  man  believes  those  truths,  the  belief  of  which  is 
sufficient  to  save,  there  the  disbelief  or  denial  of  their  con- 


MATT.  x.  33.]      Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.  47 

sequences  can  not  damn.  But  what  and  how  many  these 
fundamentals  are,  it  will  then  be  agreed  upon,  when  all  sects, 
opinions,  and  persuasions  do  unite  and  consent.  2dly,  If  we 
speak  of  fundamentals  in  the  former  sense,  as  they  are  only 
truths,  without  which  we  can  not  be  saved :  it  is  manifest 
that  we  may  believe  them,  and  yet  be  damned  for  denying 
their  consequences :  for  that  which  is  only  a  condition,  with 
out  which  we  can  not  be  saved,  is  not  therefore  a  cause  suffi 
cient  to  save :  much  more  is  required  to  the  latter,  than  to 
the  former.  I  conclude  therefore,  that  to  deny  Christ  in  our 
judgment,  will  condemn,  and  this  concerns  the  learned : 
Christ  demands  the  homage  of  your  understanding :  he  will 
have  your  reason  bend  to  him  ;  you  must  put  your  heads 
under  his  feet.  And  we  know,  that  heretofore,  he  who  had 
the  leprosy  in  this  part  was  to  be  pronounced  utterly  unclean. 
A  poisoned  reason,  an  infected  judgment,  is  Christ's  greatest 
enemy.  And  an  error  in  the  judgment  is  like  an  impos- 
thuine  in  the  head,  which  is  always  noisome,  and  frequently 
mortal. 

2.  We  may  deny  Christ  verbally,  and  by  oral  expressions. 
Now  our  words  are  the  interpreters  of  our  hearts,  the  tran 
scripts  of  the  judgment,  with  some  further  addition  of  good 
or  evil.  He  that  interprets,  usually  enlarges.  What  our 
judgment  whispers  in  secret,  these  proclaim  upon  the  house 
top.  To  deny  Christ  in  the  former,  imports  enmity ;  but  in 
these,  open  defiance.  Christ's  passion  is  renewed  in  both: 
he  that  misjudges  of  him,  condemns  him  ;  but  he  that  blas 
phemes  him,  spits  in  his  face.  Thus  the  Jews  and  the 
Pharisees  denied  Christ.  We  know  that  this  man  is  a  sinner, 
John  ix.  24,  and  a  deceiver,  Matt,  xxvii.  63.  And  he  casts  out 
devils  by  the  prince  of  devils,  Matt.  xii.  24.  And  thus  Christ 
is  daily  denied,  in  many  blasphemies  printed  and  divulged, 
and  many  horrid  opinions  vented  against  the  truth.  The 
schools  dispute  whether  in  morals  the  external  action  su- 
peradds  any  thing  of  good  or  evil  to  the  internal  elicit  act 
of  the  will :  but  certainly  the  enmity  of  our  judgments  is 
wrought  up  to  an  high  pitch,  before  it  rages  in  an  open 
denial.  And  it  is  a  sign  that  it  is  grown  too  big  for  the 
heart,  when  it  seeks  for  vent  in  our  words.  Blasphemy 
uttered,  is  error  heightened  with  impudence :  it  is  sin 


48  Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.        [SERM.  in. 

scorning-  a  concealment,  not  only  committed,  but  defended. 
He  that  denies  Christ  in  his  judgment,  sins ;  but  he  that 
speaks  his  denial,  vouches  and  owns  his  sin :  and  so,  by  pub 
lishing  it,  does  what  in  him  lies  to  make  it  universal,  and  by 
writing  it,  to  establish  it  eternal.  There  is  another  way  of 
denying  Christ  with  our  mouths,  which  is  negative ;  that  is, 
when  we  do  not  acknowledge  and  confess  him :  but  of  this  I 
shall  have  occasion  to  treat  under  the  discussion  of  the  third 
general  head. 

3.  We  may  deny  Christ  in  our  actions  and  practice ;  and 
these  speak  much  louder  than  our  tongues.  To  have  an 
orthodox  belief,  and  a  true  profession,  concurring  with  a  bad 
life,  is  only  to  deny  Christ  with  a  greater  solemnity.  Belief 
and  profession  will  speak  thee  a  Christian  but  very  faintly, 
when  thy  conversation  proclaims  thee  an  infidel.  Many, 
while  they  have  preached  Christ  in  their  sermons,  have  read 
a  lecture  of  atheism  in  their  practice.  We  have  many  here 
who  speak  of  godliness,  mortification,  and  self  -  denial ;  but 
if  these  are  so,  what  means  the  bleating  of  the  sheep,  and 
the  lowing  of  the  oxen,  the  noise  of  their  ordinary  sins,  and 
the  cry  of  their  great  ones  ?  If  godly,  why  do  they  wallow 
and  steep  in  all  the  carnalities  of  the  world,  under  pretense 
of  Christian  liberty  ?  Why  do  they  make  religion  ridiculous 
by  pretending  to  prophesy ;  and  when  their  prophecies  prove 
delusions,  why  do  they  blaspheme?*  If  such  are  self-de- 
niers,  what  means  the  griping,  the  prejudice,  the  covetous- 
ness,  and  the  pluralities  preached  against,  and  retained,  and 
the  arbitrary  government  of  many  ?  When  such  men  preach 
of  self-denial  and  humility,  I  can  not  but  think  of  Seneca, 
who  praised  poverty,  and  that  very  safely,  in  the  midst  of 
his  great  riches  and  gardens ;  and  even  exhorted  the  world  to 
throw  away  their  gold,  perhaps  (as  one  well  conjectures)  that 
he  might  gather  it  up :  so  these  desire  men  to  be  humble, 
that  they  may  domineer  without  opposition.  But  it  is  an 
easy  matter  to  commend  patience,  when  there  is  no  danger 

*  A  noted  independent  divine,  when  But  Oliver's  death  being  published  two 
Oliver  Cromwell  was  sick,  of  which  days  after,  the  said  divine  publicly  in 
sickness  he  died,  declared  that  God  prayer  expostulated  with  God  the  de- 
had  revealed  to  him  that  he  should  re-  feat  of  his  prophecy,  in  these  words  : 
cover,  and  live  thirty  years  longer,  for  Lord,  thou  hast  lied  unto  us  ;  yea,  thou  hast 
that  God  had  raised  him  up  for  a  work  lied  unto  us. 
which  could  not  be  done  in  less  time. 


MATT.  x.  33.]      Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.  49 

of  any  trial,  to  extol  humility  in  the  midst  of  honors,  to  be 
gin  a  fast  after  dinner.*  But,  0  how  Christ  will  deal  with 
such  persons,  when  he  shall  draw  forth  all  their  actions  bare, 
and  stript  from  this  deceiving  veil  of  their  heavenly  speeches  ! 
He  will  then  say,  It  was  not  your  sad  countenance,  nor  your 
hypocritical  groaning,  by  which  you  did  either  confess  or 
honor  me :  but  your  worldliness,  your  luxury,  your  sinister 
partial  dealing :  these  have  denied  me,  these  have  wounded 
me,  these  have  gone  to  my  heart ;  these  have  caused  the 
weak  to  stumble,  and  the  profane  to  blaspheme ;  these  have 
offended  the  one,  and  hardened  the  other.  You  have  indeed 
spoke  me  fair,  you  have  saluted  me  with  your  lips,  but  even 
then  you  betrayed  me.  Depart  from  me  therefore,  you  pro 
fessors  of  holiness,  but  you  workers  of  iniquity. 

And  thus  having  shown  the  three  ways  by  which  Christ 
may  be  denied,  it  may  now  be  demanded,  which  is  the  denial 
here  intended  in  the  words. 

Answer.  (1.)  I  conceive,  if  the  words  are  taken  as  they 
were  particularly  and  personally  directed  to  the  apostles, 
upon  the  occasion  of  their  mission  to  preach  the  gospel,  so 
the  denial  of  him  was  the  not  acknowledgment  of  the  deity 
or  godhead  of  Christ ;  and  the  reason  to  prove  that  this  was 
then  principally  intended  is  this;  because  this  was  the  truth 
in  those  days  chiefly  opposed,  and  most  disbelieved ;  as  ap 
pears,  because  Christ  and  the  apostles  did  most  earnestly  in 
culcate  the  belief  of  this,  and  accepted  men  upon  the  bare 
acknowledgment  of  this,  and  baptism  was  administered  to 
such  as  did  but  profess  this,  Act  viii.  37,  38.  And  indeed, 
as  this  one  aphorism,  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son  of  God,  is  virt 
ually  and  eminently  the  whole  gospel ;  so,  to  confess  or  deny 
it,  is  virtually  to  embrace  or  reject  the  whole  round  and  series 
of  gospel  truths.  For  he  that  acknowledges  Christ  to  be  the 
Son  of  God,  by  the  same  does  consequentially  acknowledge, 
that  he  is  to  be  believed  and  obeyed,  in  whatsoever  he  does 
enjoin  and  deliver  to  the  sons  of  men :  and  therefore  that  we 
are  to  repent,  and  believe,  and  rest  upon  him  for  salvation, 
and  to  deny  ourselves :  and  within  the  compass  of  this  is  in 
cluded  whatsoever  is  called  gospel. 

*  Very  credibly  reported  to  have  been  done  in  an  independent  congregation 
at  Oxon. 


VOL.  I. 


50  Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.        [SERM.  in. 

As  for  the  manner  of  our  denying  the  deity  of  Christ  here 
prohibited,  I  conceive,  it  was  by  words  and  oral  expressions 
verbally  to  deny  and  disacknowledge  it.  This  I  ground  upon 
these  reasons : 

1.  Because  it  was  such  a  denial  as  was  before  men,  and 
therefore  consisted  in  open  profession ;  for  a  denial  in  judg 
ment  and  practice,  as  such,  is  not  always  before  men. 

2.  Because  it  was  such  a  denial  or  confession  of  him  as 
would  appear  in  preaching :  but  this  is  managed  in  words  and 
verbal  profession. 

But  now,  (2.)  if  we  take  the  words  as  they  are  a  general 
precept,  equally  relating  to  all  times  and  to  all  persons, 
though  delivered  only  upon  a  particular  occasion  to  the 
apostles,  (as  I  suppose  they  are  to  be  understood  ;)  so  I  think 
they  comprehend  all  the  three  ways  mentioned  of  confessing 
or  denying  Christ:  but  principally  in  respect  of  practice; 
and  that,  1.  Because  by  this  he  is  most  honored  or  dishonored. 
2.  Because  without  this  the  other  two  cannot  save.  3.  Be 
cause  those  who  are  ready  enough  to  confess  him  both  in 
judgment  and  profession,  are  for  the  most  part  very  prone  to 
deny  him  shamefully  in  their  doings. 

Pass  we  now  to  a  second  thing,  viz.  to  show, 

II.  What  are  the  causes  inducing  men  to  deny  Christ  in 
his  truths.  I  shall  propose  three  : 

1.  The  seeming  supposed  absurdity  of  many  truths :  upon 
this  foundation  heresy  always  builds.  The  heathens  derided 
the  Christians,  that  still  they  required  and  pressed  belief; 
and  well  they  might,  say  they,  since  the  articles  of  their 
religion  are  so  absurd,  that  upon  principles  of  science  they 
can  never  win  assent.  It  is  easy  to  draw  it  forth  and  dem 
onstrate,  how  upon  this  score  the  chief  heresies,  that  now 
are  said  to  trouble  the  church,  do  oppose  and  deny  the  most 
important  truths  in  divinity.  As  first,  hear  the  denier  of  the 
deity  and  satisfaction  of  Christ.  What,  says  he,  can  the 
same  person  be  God  and  man  ?  the  creature  and  the  creator  ? 
Can  we  ascribe  such  attributes  to  the  same  thing,  whereof 
one  implies  a  negation  and  a  contradiction  of  the  other  ?  Can 
he  be  also  finite  and  infinite,  when  to  be  finite  is  not  to  be 
infinite,  and  to  be  infinite  not  to  be  finite  ?  And  when  we 
distinguish  between  the  person  and  the  nature,  was  not  that 


MATT.  x.  33.]      Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.  51 

distinction  an  invention  of  the  schools,  savoring  rather  of 
metaphysics  than  divinity?  If  we  say,  that  he  must  have 
heen  God,  because  he  was  to  mediate  between  us  and  God, 
by  the  same  reason,  they  will  reply,  we  should  need  a  me 
diator  between  us  and  Christ,  who  is  equally  God,  equally 
offended.  Then  for  his  satisfaction,  they  will  demand  to 
whom  this  satisfaction  is  paid?  If  to  God,  then  God  pays  a 
price  to  himself :  and  what  is  it  else  to  require  and  need  no 
satisfaction,  than  for  one  to  satisfy  himself?  Next  comes  in 
the  denier  of  the  decrees  and  free  grace  of  God.  What,  says 
he,  shall  we  exhort,  admonish,  and  entreat  the  saints  to  be 
ware  of  falling  away  finally,  and  at  the  same  time  assert,  that 
it  is  impossible  for  them  so  to  fall  ?  What,  shall  we  erect  two 
contradictory  wills  in  God,  or  place  two  contradictories  in  the 
same  will  ?  and  make  the  will  of  his  purpose  and  intention 
run  counter  to  the  will  of  his  approbation  ?  Hear  another 
concerning  the  scripture  and  justification.  What,  says  the 
Romanist,  rely  in  matters  of  faith  upon  a  private  spirit  ?  How 
do  you  know  this  is  the  sense  of  such  a  scripture  ?  Why,  by 
the  Spirit.  But  how  will  you  try  that  Spirit  to  be  of  God  ? 
Why,  by  the  scripture.  This  he  explodes  as  a  circle,  and  so 
derides  it.  Then  for  justification.  How  are  you  justified  by 
an  imputed  righteousness  ?  Is  it  yours  before  it  is  imputed, 
or  not  ?  If  not,  as  we  must  say,  is  this  to  be  justified  to  have 
that  accounted  yours,  that  is  not  yours  ?  But  again,  did  you 
ever  hear  of  any  man  made  rich  or  wise  by  imputation  ?  Why 
then  righteous  or  just?  Now  these  seeming  paradoxes,  at 
tending  gospel  truths,  cause  men  of  weak,  prejudiced  intel 
lectuals  to  deny  them,  and  in  them,  Christ ;  being  ashamed 
to  own  faith  so  much,  as  they  think,  to  the  disparagement  of 
their  reason. 

2.  The  second  thing  causing  men  to  deny  the  truths  of 
Christ  is  their  unprofitableness.  And  no  wonder,  if  here 
men  forsake  the  truth,  and  assert  interest.  To  be  pious  is 
the  way  to  be  poor.  Truth  still  gives  its  followers  its  own 
badge  and  livery,  a  despised  nakedness.  It  is  hard  to  main 
tain  the  truth,  but  much  harder  to  be  maintained  by  it. 
Could  it  ever  yet  feed,  clothe,  or  defend  its  assertors  ?  Did 
ever  any  man  quench  his  thirst  or  satisfy  his  hunger  with 
a  notion?  Did  ever  any  one  live  upon  propositions?  The 


52  Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.        [SERM.  in. 

testimony  of  Brutus  concerning  virtue  is  the  apprehension 
of  most  concerning  truth :  that  it  is  a  name,  but  lives  and 
estates  are  things,  and  therefore  not  to  he  thrown  away  upon 
words.  That  we  are  neither  to  worship  or  cringe  to  any 
thing  under  the  Deity,  is  a  truth  too  strict  for  a  Naaman : 
he  can  he  content  to  worship  the  true  God,  hut  then  it  must 
be  in  the  house  of  Bimmon  :  the  reason  was  implied  in  his 
condition ;  he  was  captain  of  the  host,  and  therefore  he 
thought  it  reason  good  to  bow  to  Bimmon,  rather  than  en 
danger  his  place :  better  bow  than  break.  Indeed  sometimes 
Providence  casts  things  so,  that  truth  and  interest  lie  the 
same  way :  and,  when  it  is  wrapt  up  in  this  covering,  men 
can  be  content  to  follow  it,  to  press  hard  after  it,  but  it  is, 
as  we  pursue  some  beasts,  only  for  their  skins :  take  off  the 
covering,  and  though  men  obtain  the  truth,  they  would  la 
ment  the  loss  of  that :  as  Jacob  wept  and  mourned  over  the 
torn  coat,  when  Joseph  was  alive.  It  is  incredible  to  con 
sider  how  interest  outweighs  truth.  If  a  thing  in  itself  be 
doubtful,  let  it  make  for  interest,  and  it  shall  be  raised  at 
least  into  a  probable ;  and  if  a  truth  be  certain,  and  thwart 
interest,  it  will  quickly  fetch  it  down  to  but  a  probability : 
nay,  if  it  does  not  carry  with  it  an  impregnable  evidence,  it 
will  go  near  to  debase  it  to  a  downright  falsity.  How  much 
interest  casts  the  balance  in  cases  dubious,  I  could  give  sun 
dry  instances :  let  one  suffice :  and  that  concerning  the  un 
lawfulness  of  usury.  Most  of  the  learned  men  in  the  world 
successively,  both  heathen  and  Christian,  do  assert  the  tak 
ing  of  use  to  be  utterly  unlawful ;  yet  the  divines  of  the 
reformed  church  beyond  the  seas,  though  most  severe  and 
rigid  in  other  things,  do  generally  affirm  it  to  be  lawful. 
That  the  case  is  doubtful,  and  may  be  disputed  with  plausible 
arguments  on  either  side,  we  may  well  grant :  but  what  then 
is  the  reason,  that  makes  these  divines  so  unanimously  con 
cur  in  this  opinion  ?  Indeed  I  shall  not  affirm  this  to  be  the 
reason,  but  it  may  seem  so  to  many  :  that  they  receive  their 
salaries  by  way  of  pension,  in  present  ready  money,  and  so 
have  no  other  way  to  improve  them  ;  so  that  it  may  be  sus 
pected,  that  the  change  of  their  salary  would  be  the  stron 
gest  argument  to  change  their  opinion.  The  truth  is,  interest 
is  the  grand  wheel  and  spring  that  moves  the  whole  universe. 


MATT.  x.  33.]      Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.  53 

Let  Christ  and  truth  say  what  they  will,  if  interest  will  have 
it,  gain  must  be  godliness :  if  enthusiasm  is  in  request, 
learning  must  he  inconsistent  with  grace.  If  pay  grows 
short,  the  university  maintenance  must  be  too  great.  Rather 
than  Pilate  will  be  counted  Caesar's  enemy,  he  will  pronounce 
Christ  innocent  one  hour,  and  condemn  him  the  next.  How 
Christ  is  made  to  truckle  under  the  world,  and  how  his  truths 
are  denied  and  shuffled  with  for  profit  and  pelf,  the  clearest 
proof  would  be  by  induction  and  example.  But  as  it  is  the 
most  clear,  so  here  it  would  be  the  most  unpleasiug :  where 
fore  I  shall  pass  this  over,  since  the  world  is  now  so  peccant 
upon  this  account,  that  I  am  afraid  instances  would  be  mis 
taken  for  invectives. 

3.  The  third  cause  inducing  men  to  deny  Christ  in  his 
truths  is  their  apparent  danger.  To  confess  Christ  is  the 
ready  way  to  be  cast  out  of  the  synagogue.  The  church  is  a 
place  of  graves,  as  well  as  of  worship  and  profession.  To  be 
resolute  in  a  good  cause  is  to  bring  upon  ourselves  the  pun 
ishments  due  to  a  bad.  Truth  indeed  is  a  possession  of  the 
highest  value,  and  therefore  it  must  needs  expose  the  owner 
to  much  danger.  Christ  is  sometimes  pleased  to  make  the 
profession  of  himself  costly,  and  a  man  can  not  buy  the  truth, 
but  he  must  pay  down  his  life  and  his  dearest  blood  for  it. 
Christianity  marks  a  man  out  for  destruction ;  and  Christ 
sometimes  chalks  out  such  a  way  to  salvation  as  shall  verify 
his  own  saying,  He  that  will  save  his  life  shall  lose  it.  The 
first  ages  of  the  church  had  a  more  abundant  experience  of 
this :  what  Paul  and  the  rest  planted  by  their  preaching, 
they  watered  with  their  blood.  We  know  their  usage  was 
such,  as  Christ  foretold ;  he  sent  them  to  wolves,  and  the 
common  course  then  was,  Christianas  ad  leones.  For  a  man 
to  give  his  name  to  Christianity  in  those  days  was  to  list  him 
self  a  martyr,  and  to  bid  farewell,  not  only  to  the  pleasures, 
but  also  to  the  hopes  of  this  life.  Neither  was  it  a  single 
death  only  that  then  attended  this  profession,  but  the  terror 
and  sharpness  of  it  was  redoubled  in  the  manner  and  circum 
stance.  They  had  persecutors,  whose  invention  was  as  great 
as  their  cruelty.  Wit  and  malice  conspired  to  find  out  such 
tortures,  such  deaths,  and  those  of  such  incredible  anguish, 
that  only  the  manner  of  dying  was  the  punishment,  death 


54  Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.        [SERM.  in. 

itself  the  deliverance.  To  be  a  martyr  signifies  only  to  wit 
ness  the  truth  of  Christ,  but  the  witnessing  of  the  truth  was 
then  so  generally  attended  with  this  event,  that  martyrdom 
now  signifies,  not  only  to  witness,  but  to  witness  by  death : 
the  word,  besides  its  own  signification,  importing  their  prac 
tice.  And  since  Christians  have  been  freed  from  heathens, 
Christians  themselves  have  turned  persecutors.  Since  Rome 
from  heathen  was  turned  Christian,  it  has  improved  its  perse 
cution  into  an  inquisition.  Now,  when  Christ  and  truth  are 
upon  these  terms,  that  men  can  not  confess  him,  but  upon 
pain  of  death,  the  reason  of  their  apostasy  and  denial  is 
clear ;  men  will  be  wise,  and  leave  truth  and  misery  to  such 
as  love  it ;  they  are  resolved  to  be  cunning,  let  others  run  the 
hazard  of  being  sincere.  If  they  must  be  good  at  so  high  a 
rate,  they  know  they  may  be  safe  at  a  cheaper.  Si  negare 
sufficiat,  quis  erit  nocens  ?  If  to  deny  Christ  will  save  them, 
the  truth  shall  never  make  them  guilty.  Let  Christ  and  his 
flock  lie  open,  and  exposed  to  all  weather  of  persecution, 
foxes  will  be  sure  to  have  holes.  And  if  it  comes  to  this, 
that  they  must  either  renounce  their  religion,  deny  and  blas 
pheme  Christ,  or  forfeit  their  lives  to  the  fire  and  sword,  it  is 
but  inverting  Job's  wife's  advice,  Curse  God,  and  live. 

III.  We  proceed  now  to  the  third  thing,  which  is  to  show, 
how  far  a  man  may  consult  his  safety,  &c. 

This  he  may  do  two  ways  : 

1.  By  withdrawing  his  person.  Martyrdom  is  an  heroic 
act  of  faith  :  an  achievement  beyond  an  ordinary  pitch  of  it ; 
To  you,  says  the  Spirit,  it  is  given  to  suffer,  Phil.  i.  29.  It  is 
a  peculiar  additional  gift :  it  is  a  distinguishing  excellency  of 
degree,  not  an  essential  consequent  of  its  nature.  Be  ye 
"harmless  as  doves,  says  Christ ;  and  it  is  as  natural  to  them  to 
take  flight  upon  danger,  as  to  be  innocent :  let  every  man 
thoroughly  consult  the  temper  of  his  faith,  and  weigh  his 
courage  with  his  fears,  his  weakness  and  his  resolution  to 
gether,  and  take  the  measure  of  both,  and  see  which  prepon 
derates;  and  if  his  spirit  faints,  if  his  heart  misgives  and 
melts  at  the  very  thoughts  of  the  fire,  let  him  fly,  and  secure 
his  own  soul,  and  Christ's  honor.  Non  negat  Christum  fugi- 
endo,  qui  ideo  fugit  ne  neget :  he  does  not  deny  Christ  by  flying, 
who  therefore  flies  that  he  may  not  deny  him.  Nay,  he  does 


MATT.  x.  33.]      Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.  55 

not  so  much  decline,  as  rather  change  his  martyrdom:  he 
flies  from  the  flame,  but  repairs  to  a  desert ;  to  poverty  and 
hunger  in  a  wilderness.  Whereas,  if  he  would  dispense  with 
his  conscience,  and  deny  his  Lord,  or  swallow  down  two  or 
three  contradictory  oaths,  he  should  neither  fear  the  one,  nor 
be  forced  to  the  other. 

2.  By  concealing  his  judgment.  A  man  sometimes  is  no 
more  bound  to  speak,  than  to  destroy  himself:  and  as  nature 
abhors  this,  so  religion  does  not  command  that.  In  the  times 
of  the  primitive  church,  when  the  Christians  dwelt  amongst 
heathens,  it  is  reported  of  a  certain  maid,  how  she  came  from 
her  father's  house  to  one  of  the  tribunals  of  the  gentiles,  and 
declared  herself  a  Christian,  spit  in  the  judge's  face,  and  so 
provoked  him  to  cause  her  to  be  executed.  But  will  any  say, 
that  this  was  to  confess  Christ,  to  die  a  martyr  ?  He  that, 
uncalled  for,  uncompelled,  comes  and  proclaims  a  persecuted 
truth,  for  which  he  is  sure  to  die,  only  dies  a  confessor  of  his 
own  folly,  and  a  sacrifice  to  his  own  rashness.  Martyrdom 
is  stamped  such  only  by  God's  command ;  and  he  that 
ventures  upon  it  without  a  call,  must  endure  it  without  a 
reward  :  Christ  will  say,  Who  required  this  at  your  hands  ? 
His  gospel  does  not  dictate  imprudence ;  no  evangelical  pre 
cept  justles  out  that  of  a  lawful  self-preservation.  He  there 
fore  that  thus  throws  himself  upon  the  sword,  runs  to  heaven 
before  he  is  sent  for ;  where,  though  perhaps  Christ  may  in 
mercy  receive  the  man,  yet  he  will  be  sure  to  disown  the 
martyr. 

And  thus  much  concerning  those  lawful  ways  of  securing 
ourselves  in  time  of  persecution :  not  as  if  these  were  always 
lawful :  for  sometimes  a  man  is  bound  to  confess  Christ 
openly,  though  he  dies  for  it ;  and  to  conceal  a  truth  is  to 
deny  it.  But  now,  to  show  when  it  is  our  duty,  and  when 
unlawful  to  take  these  courses,  by  some  general  rule  of  a 
perpetual,  never-failing  truth,  none  ever  would  yet  presume  : 
for,  as  Aristotle  says,  we  are  not  to  expect  demonstrations 
in  ethics  or  politics,  nor  to  build  certain  rules  upon  the  con 
tingency  of  human  actions ;  so,  inasmuch  as  our  flying  from 
persecution,  our  confessing  or  concealing  persecuted  truths, 
vary  and  change  their  very  nature,  according  to  different 
circumstances  of  time,  place,  and  persons,  we  can  not  limit 


56  Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.        [SERM.  HI. 

their  directions  within  any  one  universal  precept.  You  will 
say  then,  how  shall  we  know  when  to  confess,  when  to  con 
ceal  a  truth  ?  when  to  wait  for,  when  to  decline  persecution  P 
Indeed,  the  only  way  that  I  think  can  he  prescribed  in  this 
case,  is  to  be  earnest  and  importunate  with  God  in  prayer  for 
special  direction  :  and  it  is  not  to  be  imagined,  that  he,  who 
is  both  faithful  and  merciful,  will  leave  a  sincere  soul  in  the 
dark  upon  such  an  occasion.  But  this  I  shall  add,  that  the 
ministers  of  God  are  not  to  evade,  or  take  refuge  in  any 
of  these  two  forementioned  ways.  They  are  public  persons ; 
and  good  shepherds  must  then  chiefly  stand  close  to  the 
flock,  when  the  wolf  conies.  For  them  to  be  silent  in  the 
cause  of  Christ,  is  to  renounce  it ;  and  to  fly,  is  to  desert  it. 
As  for  that  place  urged  in  favor  of  the  contrary,  in  ver.  23, 
When  they  persecute  you  in  this  city,  flee  into  another,  it  proves 
nothing ;  for  the  precept  was  particular,  and  concerned  only 
the  apostles ;  and  that,  but  for  that  time  in  which  they  were 
then  sent  to  the  Jews,  at  which  time  Christ  keep  them  as  a 
reserve  for  the  future :  for  when  after  his  death  they  were 
indifferently  sent  both  to  Jews  and  gentiles,  we  find  not  this 
clause  in  their  commission,  but  they  were  to  sign  the  truths 
they  preached  with  their  blood;  as  we  know  they  actually 
did.  And  moreover,  when  Christ  bids  them,  being  perse 
cuted  in  one  city,  fly  into  another,  it  was  not  (as  Grotius 
actuely  observes)  that  they  might  lie  hid,  or  be  secure  in  that 
city,  but  that  there  they  might  preach  the  gospel :  so  that 
their  flight  here  was  not  to  secure  their  persons,  but  to  con 
tinue  their  business.  I  conclude  therefore,  that  faithful 
ministers  are  to  stand  and  endure  the  brunt.  A  common 
soldier  may  fly,  when  it  is  the  duty  of  him  that  holds  the 
standard  to  die  upon  the  place.  And  we  have  abundant  en 
couragement  so  to  do.  Christ  has  seconded  and  sweetened 
his  command  with  his  promise :  yea,  the  thing  itself  is  not 
only  our  duty,  but  our  glory.  And  he  who  has  done  this 
work,  has  in  the  very  work  partly  received  his  wages.  And 
were  it  put  to  my  choice,  I  think  I  should  choose  rather 
with  spitting  and  scorn  to  be  tumbled  into  the  dust  in  blood, 
bearing  witness  to  any  known  truth  of  our  dear  Lord,  now 
opposed  by  the  enthusiasts  of  the  present  age,  than  by  a 
denial  of  those  truths  through  blood  and  perjury  wade  to  a 


MATT.  x.  33.]      Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.  57 

sceptre,  and  lord  it  in  a  throne.  And  we  need  not  doubt,  but 
truth,  however  oppressed,  will  have  some  followers,  and  at 
length  prevail.  A  Christ,  though  crucified,  will  arise :  and 
as  it  is  in  Rev.  xi.  3,  tlie  witnesses  will  prophesy,  though  it  be 
in  sackcloth. 

IV.  Having  thus  dispatched  the  third  thing,  I  proceed  to 
the  fourth,  which  is  to  show,  what  it  is  for  Christ  to  deny  us 
before  his  Father  in  heaven.  Hitherto  we  have  treated  of 
men's  carriage  to  Christ  in  this  world ;  now  we  will  describe 
his  carriage  to  them  in  the  other.  These  words  clearly  relate 
to  the  last  judgment,  and  they  are  a  summary  description  of 
his  proceeding  with  men  at  that  day. 

And  here  we  will  consider, 

1.  The  action  itself,  He  will  deny  them. 

2.  The  circumstance  of  the  action,  He  will  deny  them  be 
fore  his  Father  and  the  holy  angels. 

1.  Concerning  the  first :  Christ's  denying  us  is  otherwise 
expressed  in  Luke  xiii.  27,  I  know  you  not.  To  know,  in 
scripture  language,  is  to  approve ;  and  so,  not  to  know,  is  to 
reject  and  condemn.  Now  who  knows  how  many  woes  are 
crowded  into  this  one  sentence,  /  will  deny  him  ?  It  is  (to  say 
no  more)  a  compendious  expression  of  hell,  an  eternity  of 
torments  comprised  in  a  word  :  it  is  condemnation  itself,  and, 
what  is  most  of  all,  it  is  condemnation  from  the  mouth  of  a 
Saviour.  0  the  inexpressible  horror  that  will  seize  upon  a 
poor  sinner,  when  he  stands  arraigned  at  the  bar  of  divine 
justice !  When  he  shall  look  about,  and  see  his  accuser, 
his  judge,  the  witnesses,  all  of  them  his  remorseless  adver 
saries  ;  the  law  impleading,  mercy  and  the  gospel  upbraiding 
him,  the  devil,  his  grand  accuser,  drawing  his  indictment ; 
numbering  his  sins  with  the  greatest  exactness,  and  aggra 
vating  them  with  the  cruelest  bitterness;  and  conscience, 
like  a  thousand  witnesses,  attesting  every  article,  flying  in 
his  face,  and  rending  his  very  heart :  and  then  after  all, 
Christ,  from  whom  only  mercy  could  be  expected,  owning  the 
accusation.  It  will  be  hell  enough  to  hear  the  sentence; 
the  very  promulgation  of  the  punishment  will  be  part  of  the 
punishment,  and  anticipate  the  execution.  If  Peter  was  so 
abashed  when  Christ  gave  him  a  look  after  his  denial;  if 
there  was  so  much  dread  in  his  looks  when  he  stood  as  pris- 


58  Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.        [SEKM.  HI. 

oner,  how  much  greater  will  it  be  when  he  sits  as  a  judge ! 
If  it  was  so  fearful  when  he  looked  his  denier  into  repent 
ance,  what  will  it  be  when  he  shall  look  him  into  destruction ! 
Believe  it,  when  we  shall  hear  an  accusation  from  an  advo 
cate,  our  eternal  doom  from  our  intercessor,  it  will  convince 
us  that  a  denial  of  Christ  is  something  more  than  a  few 
transitory  words :  what  trembling,  what  outcries,  what  as 
tonishment  will  there  be  upon  the  pronouncing  this  sentence ! 
Every  word  will  come  upon  the  sinner  like  an  arrow  striking 
through  his  reins ;  like  thunder,  that  is  heard,  and  consumes 
at  the  same  instant.  Yea,  it  will  be  a  denial  with  scorn,  with 
taunting  exprobrations  :  and  to  be  miserable  without  commis 
eration  is  the  height  of  misery.  He  that  falls  below  pity,  can 
fall  no  lower.  Could  I  give  you  a  lively  representation  of 
guilt  and  horror  on  this  hand,  and  paint  out  eternal  wrath, 
and  decipher  eternal  vengeance  on  the  other,  then  might  I 
show  you  the  condition  of  a  sinner  hearing  himself  denied 
by  Christ :  and  for  those  whom  Christ  has  denied,  it  will  be 
in  vain  to  appeal  to  the  Father,  unless  we  can  imagine  that 
those  whom  mercy  has  condemned,  justice  will  absolve. 

2.  For  the  circumstance,  He  will  deny  us  before  his  Father 
and  the  holy  angels.  As  much  as  God  is  more  glorious  than 
man,  so  much  is  it  more  glorious  to  be  confessed  before  him, 
than  before  men :  and  so  much  glory  as  there  is  in  being 
confessed,  so  much  dishonor  there  is  in  being  denied,  if 
there  could  be  any  room  for  comfort  after  the  sentence  of 
damnation,  it  would  be  this,  to  be  executed  in  secret,  to 
perish  unobserved :  as  it  is  some  allay  to  the  infamy  of  him 
who  died  ignominiously,  to  be  buried  privately.  But  when 
a  man's  folly  must  be  spread  open  before  the  angels,  and  all 
his  baseness  ript  up  before  those  pure  spirits,  this  will  be  a 
double  hell :  to  be  thrust  into  utter  darkness,  only  to  be  pun 
ished  by  it,  without  the  benefit  of  being  concealed.  When 
Christ  shall  compare  himself,  who  was  denied,  and  the  thing 
for  which  he  was  denied,  together,  and  parallel  his  merits 
with  a  lust,  and  lay  eternity  in  the  balance  with  a  trifle,  then 
the  folly  of  the  sinner's  choice  shall  be  the  greatest  sting  of 
his  destruction.  For  a  man  shall  not  have  the  advantage  of 
his  former  ignorances  and  error  to  approve  his  sin  :  things 
that  appear  amiable  by  the  light  of  this  world,  will  appear 


MATT.  x.  33.]      Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.  59 

of  a  different  odious  hue  in  the  clear  discoveries  of  the  next : 
as  that  which  appears  to  be  of  this  color  by  a  dim  candle, 
will  be  found  to  be  of  another,  looked  upon  in  the  day.  So 
when  Christ  shall  have  cleared  up  men's  apprehensions  about 
the  value  of  things,  he  will  propose  that  worthy  prize  for 
which  he  was  denied ;  he  will  hold  it  up  to  open  view,  and 
call  upon  men  and  angels :  Behold,  look,  here  's  the  thing, 
here  's  that  piece  of  dirt,  that  windy  applause,  that  poor 
transitory  pleasure,  that  contemptible  danger,  for  which  I 
was  dishonored,  my  truths  disowned,  and  for  which,  life, 
eternity,  and  God  himself  was  scorned  and  trampled  upon  by 
this  sinner :  judge,  all  the  world,  whether  what  he  so  despised 
in  the  other  life,  he  deserves  to  enjoy  in  this.  How  will  the 
condemned  sinner  then  crawl  forth,  and  appear  in  his  filth 
and  shame,  before  that  undefiled  tribunal,  like  a  toad  or  a 
snake  in  a  king's  presence-chamber !  Nothing  so  irksome,  as 
to  have  one's  folly  displayed  before  the  prudent;  one's  im 
purity  before  the  pure.  And  all  this  before  that  company 
surrounding  him,  from  which  he  is  neither  able  to  look  off, 
nor  yet  to  look  upon.  A  disgrace  put  upon  a  man  in  com 
pany  is  unsupportable :  it  is  heightened  according  to  the 
greatness,  and  multiplied  according  to  the  number  of  the 
persons  that  hear  it.  And  now  as  this  circumstance  [before 
Ms  Fattier]  fully  speaks  the  shame,  so  likewise  it  speaks  the 
danger  of  Christ's  then  denying  us.  For  when  the  accusation 
is  heard,  and  the  person  stands  convict,  God  is  immediately 
lifting  up  his  hand  to  inflict  the  eternal  blow ;  and  when 
Christ  denies  to  exhibit  a  ransom,  to  step  between  the  stroke 
then  coming  and  the  sinner,  it  must  inevitably  fall  upon  him, 
and  sink  his  guilty  soul  into  that  deep  and  bottomless  gulph 
of  endless  perdition.  This  therefore  is  the  sum  of  Christ's 
denying  us  before  his  Father,  viz.  unsupportable  shame,  un 
avoidable  destruction. 

V.  I  proceed  now  to  the  uses  which  may  be  drawn  from  the 
truths  delivered.  And  here, 

1.  (Right  honorable)  not  only  the  present  occasion,  but 
even  the  words  themselves,  seem  eminently  to  address  an  ex 
hortation  to  your  honors.  As  for  others  not  to  deny  Christ, 
is  openly  to  profess  him ;  so  for  you  who  are  invested  with 
authority,  not  to  deny  him,  is  to  defend  him.  Know  there- 


60  Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.        [SEEM,  m 

fore,  that  Christ  does  not  only  desire,  but  demand  your  de 
fense,  and  that  in  a  double  respect. 

(1.)  In  respect  of  his  truth.     (2.)   Of  his  members. 

(1.)  He  requires  that  you  should  defend  and  confess  him 
in  his  truth.  Heresy  is  a  tare  sometimes  not  to  be  pulled  up 
but  by  the  civil  magistrate.  The  word  liberty  of  conscience 
is  much  abused  for  the  defense  of  it,  because  not  well  under 
stood.  Every  man  may  have  liberty  of  conscience  to  think 
and  judge  as  he  pleases,  but  not  to  vent  what  he  pleases. 
The  reason  is,  because  conscience  bounding  itself  within 
the  thoughts  is  of  private  concernment,  and  the  cognizance 
of  these  belong  only  to  God  :  but  when  an  opinion  is  pub 
lished,  it  concerns  all  that  hear  it ;  and  the  public  is  endam- 
aged,  and  therefore  becomes  punishable  by  the  magistrate,  to 
whom  the  care  of  the  public  is  intrusted.  But  there  is  one 
truth  that  concerns  both  ministry  and  magistracy,  and  all ; 
which  is  opposed  by  those  who  affirm,  that  none  ought  to 
govern  upon  the  earth,  but  Christ  in  person  :  absurdly ;  as 
if  the  powers  that  are  destroyed  his ;  as  if  a  deputy  were 
not  consistent  with  a  king ;  as  if  there  were  any  opposition 
in  subordination.  They  affirm  also,  that  the  wicked  have 
no  right  to  their  estates  ;  but  only  the  faithful,  that  is,  them 
selves,  ought  to  possess  the  earth.  And  it  is  not  to  be  ques 
tioned,  but  when  they  come  to  explain  this  principle,  by  put 
ting  it  into  execution,  there  will  be  but  few  that  have  estates 
at  present,  but  will  be  either  found,  or  made  wicked.  I  shall 
not  be  so  urgent,  to  press  you  to  confess  Christ,  by  asserting 
and  owning  the  truth,  contrary  to  this,  since  it  does  not  only 
oppose  truth,  but  property ;  and  here  to  deny  Christ,  would 
be  to  deny  yourselves,  in  a  sense  which  none  is  like  to  do. 

(2.)  Christ  requires  you  to  own  and  defend  him  in  his 
members ;  and  amongst  these,  the  chief  of  them,  and  such 
as  most  fall  in  your  way,  the  ministers  ;  I  say,  that  despised, 
abject,  oppressed  sort  of  men,  the  ministers,  whom  the  world 
would  make  antichristian,  and  so  deprive  them  of  heaven ; 
and  also  strip  them  of  that  poor  remainder  of  their  main 
tenance,  and  so  allow  them  no  portion  upon  the  earth.  You 
may  now  spare  that  distinction  of  scandalous  ministers,  when 
it  is  even  made  scandalous  to  be  a  minister.  And  as  for 
their  discouragement  in  the  courts  of  the  law,  I  shall  only 


MATT.  x.  33.]      Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.  61 

note  this,  that  for  these  many  years  last  past,  it  has  been 
the  constant  observation  of  all,  that  if  a  minister  had  a  cause 
depending  in  the  court,  it  was  ten  to  one  but  it  went  against 
him.  I  can  not  believe  your  law  justles  out  the  gospel ;  but 
if  it  be  thus  used  to  undermine  Christ  in  his  servants,  beware 
that  such  judgments  passed  upon  them  do  not  fetch  down 
God's  judgments  upon  the  land ;  and  that  for  such  abuse  of 
law,  Christ  does  not  in  anger  deprive  both  you  and  us  of 
its  use.  (My  lords)  I  make  no  doubt  but  you  will  meet  with 
many  suits  in  your  course,  in  which  the  persons  we  speak 
of  are  concerned,*  as  it  is  easy  to  prognosticate  from  those 
many  worthy  petitions  preferred  against  them,  for  which  the 
well-affected  petitioners  will  one  day  receive  but  small  thanks 
from  the  court  of  heaven.  But  however  their  causes  speed 
in  your  tribunals,  know  that  Christ  himself  will  recognize 
them  at  a  greater.  And  then,  what  a  different  face  will  be 
put  upon  things  !  When  the  usurping,  devouring  Mmrods 
of  the  world  shall  be  cast  with  scorn  on  the  left  hand ;  and 
Christ  himself  in  that  great  consistory  shall  deign  to  step 
down  from  his  throne,  and  single  out  a  poor  despised  minis 
ter,  and  (as  it  were  taking  him  by  the  hand)  present  him  to, 
and  openly  thus  confess  him  before  his  Father :  Father,  here 
is  a  poor  servant  of  mine,  who,  for  doing  his  duty  impartially, 
for  keeping  a  good  conscience,  and  testifying  my  truths  in  an 
hypocritical  pretending  age,  was  wronged,  trod  upon,  stripped 
of  all :  Father,  I  will  that  there  be  now  a  distinction  made, 
between  such  as  have  owned  and  confessed  me  with  the  loss 
of  the  world,  and  those  that  have  denied,  persecuted,  and 
insulted  over  me.  It  will  be  in  vain  then  to  come  and  creep 
for  mercy;  and  say,  Lord,  when  did  we  insult  over  thee? 
when  did  we  see  thee  in  our  courts,  and  despised  or  oppressed 
thee  ?  Christ's  reply  will  be  then  quick  and  sharp  :  Verily, 
inasmuch  as  you  did  it  to  one  of  these  little,  poor  despised 
ones,  ye  did  it  unto  me. 

2.  Use  is  of  information,  to  show  us  the  danger  as  well  as 
the  baseness  of  a  dastardly  spirit,  in  asserting  the  interest 
and  truth  of  Christ.  Since  Christ  has  made  a  Christian 

*  Whensoever  any  petition  was  put  of  the  house  were  still  returned  to  them, 
up  to  the  parliament  in  the  year  1653,  and  that  by  the  name  and  elogy  of  the 
for  the  taking  away  of  tithes,  the  thanks  well-affected  petitioners. 


62  Interest  deposed,  and  Truth  restored.        [SERM.  in. 

course  a  warfare,  of  all  men  living1  a  coward  is  the  most  unfit 
to  make  a  Christian :  whose  infamy  is  not  so  great,  but  it  is 
sometimes  less  than  his  peril.  A  coward  does  not  always 
scape  with  disgrace,  hut  sometimes  also  he  loses  his  life  : 
wherefore,  let  all  such  know,  as  can  enlarge  their  consciences 
like  hell,  and  call  any  sinful  compliance  submission,  and  style 
a  cowardly  silence  in  Christ's  cause,  discretion  and  prudence ; 
I  say,  let  them  know,  that  Christ  will  one  day  scorn  them, 
and  spit  them,  with  their  policy  and  prudence,  into  hell ; 
and  then  let  them  consult,  how  politic  they  were,  for  a  tem 
poral  emolument,  to  throw  away  eternity.  The  things  which 
generally  cause  men  to  deny  Christ  are,  either  the  enjoyments 
or  the  miseries  of  this  life :  but  alas  !  at  the  day  of  judgment 
all  these  will  expire ;  and,  as  one  well  observes,  what  are  we 
the  better  for  pleasure,  or  the  worse  for  sorrow,  when  it  is 
past  ?  But  then  sin  and  guilt  will  be  still  fresh,  and  heaven 
and  hell  will  be  then  yet  to  begin.  If  ever  it  was  seasonable 
to  preach  courage  in  the  despised,  abused  cause  of  Christ, 
it  is  now,  when  his  truths  are  reformed  into  nothing,  when 
the  hands  and  hearts  of  his  faithful  ministers  are  weakened, 
and  even  broke,  and  his  worship  extirpated  in  a  mockery, 
that  his  honor  may  be  advanced.  Well,  to  establish  our 
hearts  in  duty,  let  us  beforehand  propose  to  ourselves  the 
worst  that  can  happen.  Should  God  in  his  judgment  suffer 
England  to  be  transformed  into  a  Munster  :  should  the  faith 
ful  be  everywhere  massacred :  should  the  places  of  learning 
be  demolished,  and  our  colleges  reduced  (not  only  as  one  *  in 
his  zeal  would  have  it)  to  three,  but  to  none ;  yet,  assuredly, 
hell  is  worse  than  all  this,  and  is  the  portion  of  such  as  deny 
Christ :  wherefore,  let  our  discouragements  be  what  they  will, 
loss  of  places,  loss  of  estates,  loss  of  life  and  relations,  yet 
still  this  sentence  stands  ratified  in  the  decrees  of  Heaven, 
Cursed  be  that  man,  that  for  any  of  these  shall  desert  the 
truth,  and  deny  his  Lord. 

*  A  colonel  of  the  army,  the  perfidi-  that  three  colleges  were  sufficient  to 

ous  cause  of  Penruddock's  death,  and  answer  the  occasions  of  the  nation,  for 

some  time  after  high-sheriff  of  Oxford-  the  breeding  of  men  up  to  learning, 

shire,  openly  and  frequently  affirmed  so  far  as  it  was  either  necessary  or 

the  uselessness  of  the  universities,  and  useful. 


SERMON  IV. 


ECCLESIASTICAL   POLICY  THE   BEST   POLICY: 
OR  RELIGION  THE  BEST  REASON  OF  STATE: 

IN  A   SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE   HONORABLE  SOCIETY  OF  LINCOLN'S  INN. 


1  KINGS  xiii.  33,  34.  —  After  this  thing  Jeroboam  returned  not  from  his  evil  way,  but 
made  again  of  the  lowest  of  the  people  priests  of  the  hiah  places:  whosoever  would, 
he  consecrated  him,  and  he  became  one  of  the  priests  of  the  high  places.  And  this 
thing  became  sin  unto  the  house  of  Jeroboam,  even  to  cut  it  off",  and  to  destroy  it  from 
off  the  face  of  the  earth. 

TEROBOAM  (from  the  name  of  a  person  become  the 
^J  character  of  impiety)  is  reported  to  posterity  eminent, 
or  rather  infamous,  for  two  things;  usurpation  of  govern 
ment,  and  innovation  of  religion.  It  is  confessed,  the  former 
is  expressly  said  to  have  heen  from  God ;  but  since  God  may 
order  and  dispose  what  he  does  not  approve,  and  use  the 
wickedness  of  men  while  he  forbids  it,  the  design  of  the 
first  cause  does  not  excuse  the  malignity  of  the  second :  and 
therefore,  the  advancement  and  sceptre  of  Jeroboam  was  in 
that  sense  only  the  work  of  God,  in  which  it  is  said,  Amos 
iii.  6.  that  there  is  no  evil  in  the  city  which  the  Lord  hath  not 
done.  But  from  his  attempts  upon  the  civil  power,  he  pro 
ceeds  to  innovate  God's  worship ;  and  from  the  subjection 
of  men's  bodies  and  estates,  to  enslave  their  consciences,  as 
knowing  that  true  religion  is  no  friend  to  an  unjust  title. 
Such  was  afterwards  the  way  of  Mahomet,  to  the  tyrant  to 
join  the  impostor,  and  what  he  had  got  by  the  sword  to  con 
firm  by  the  Alcoran ;  raising  his  empire  upon  two  pillars, 
conquest  and  inspiration.  Jeroboam  being  thus  advanced, 
and  thinking  policy  the  best  piety,  though  indeed  in  nothing 
ever  more  befooled,  the  nature  of  sin  being  not  only  to  defile, 
but  to  infatuate;  in  the  xiith  chapter,  and  the  27th  verse, 


64  Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  [SERM.  iv. 

lie  thus  argues ;  If  this  people  go  up  to  do  sacrifice  in  the 
house  of  tlie  Lord  at  Jerusalem,  then  shall  the  heart  of  this 
people  turn  again  unto  their  lord,  even  unto  Rehoboam  king  of 
Judah,  and  they  shall  kill  me,  and  go  again  unto  Rehoboam 
king  of  Judah.  As  if  he  should  have  said :  The  true  worship 
of  God,  and  the  converse  of  those  that  use  it,  dispose  men  to 
a  considerate  lawful  subjection.  And  therefore  I  must  take 
another  course :  my  practice  must  not  be  better  than  my 
title ;  what  was  won  by  force,  must  be  continued  by  delusion. 
Thus  sin  is  usually  seconded  with  sin ;  and  a  man  seldom 
commits  one  sin  to  please,  but  he  commits  another  to  defend 
himself :  as  it  is  frequent  for  the  adulterer  to  commit  murder, 
to  conceal  the  shame  of  his  adultery.  But  let  us  see  Jero 
boam's  politic  procedure  in  the  next  verse.  Whereupon  the 
king  took  counsel,  and  made  tiuo  calves  of  gold,  and  said  unto 
them,  It  is  too  much  for  you  to  go  up  to  Jerusalem  :  behold  thy 
gods,  0  Israel.  As  if  he  had  made  such  an  edict :  I  Jero 
boam,  by  the  advice  of  my  council,  considering  the  great  dis 
tance  of  the  temple,  and  the  great  charges  that  poor  people 
are  put  to  in  going  thither ;  as  also  the  intolerable  burden 
of  paying  the  first-fruits  and  tithes  to  the  priest,  have  con 
sidered  of  a  way  that  may  be  more  easy,  and  less  burdensome 
to  the  people,  as  also  more  comfortable  to  the  priests  them 
selves  ;  and  therefore  strictly  enjoin,  that  none  henceforth 
presume  to  repair  to  the  temple  at  Jerusalem,  especially  since 
God  is  not  tied  to  any  place  or  form  of  worship ;  as  also  be 
cause  the  devotion  of  men  is  apt  to  be  clogged  by  such  cere 
monies  ;  therefore,  both  for  the  ease  of  the  people,  as  well  as 
for  the  advancement  of  religion,  we  require  and  command, 
that  all  henceforth  forbear  going  up  to  Jerusalem.  Question 
less  these  and  such  other  reasons  the  impostor  used,  to  insin 
uate  his  devout  idolatry.  And  thus  the  calves  were  set  up, 
to  which  oxen  must  be  sacrificed ;  the  god  and  the  sacrifice 
out  of  the  same  herd.  And  because  Israel  was  not  to  return 
to  Egypt,  Egypt  was  brought  back  to  them  :  that  is,  the 
Egyptian  way  of  worship,  the  Apis,  or  Serapis,  which  was 
nothing  but  the  image  of  a  calf  or  ox,  as  is  clear  from  most 
historians.  Thus  Jeroboam  having  procured  his  people  gods, 
the  next  thing  was  to  provide  priests.  Hereupon  to  the 
calves  he  adds  a  commission  for  the  approving,  trying,  and 


i  KINGS  xiii.  33, 34.]   Religion  the  best  Season  of  State.  65 

admitting  the  rascality  and  lowest  of  the  people  to  minister 
in  that  service :  such  as  kept  cattle,  with  a  little  change  of 
their  office,  were  admitted  to  make  oblations  to  them.  And 
doubtless,  besides  the  approbation  of  these,  there  was  a  com 
mission  also  to  eject  such  of  the  priests  and  Levites  of  God, 
as  being  too  ceremoniously  addicted  to  the  temple,  would  not 
serve  Jeroboam  before  God,  nor  worship  his  calves  for  their 
gold,  nor  approve  those  two  glittering  sins  for  any  reason  of 
state  whatsoever.  Having  now  perfected  divine  worship,  and 
prepared  both  gods  and  priests ;  in  the  next  place,  that  he 
might  the  better  teach  his  false  priests  the  way  of  their  new 
worship,  he  begins  the  service  himself,  and  so  countenances 
by  his  example  what  he  had  enjoined  by  his  command,  in  the 
1st  verse  of  this  chapter ;  and  Jeroboam  stood  by  the  altar  to 
burn  incense.  Burning  of  incense  was  then  the  ministerial 
office  amongst  them,  as  preaching  is  now  amongst  us.  So 
that  to  represent  to  you  the  nature  of  Jeroboam's  action  ;  it 
was  as  if  in  a  Christian  nation  the  chief  governor  should 
authorize  and  encourage  all  the  scum  and  refuse  of  the 
people  to  preach,  and  call  them  to  the  ministry  by  using  to 
preach,*  and  invade  the  ministerial  function  himself.  But 
Jeroboam  rested  not  here,  but  while  he  was  busy  in  his  work, 
and  a  prophet  immediately  sent  by  God  declares  against  his 
idolatry,  he  endeavors  to  seize  upon  and  commit  him ;  in  ver. 
4,  he  held  forth  his  hand  from  the  altar,  and  said,  Lay  Jwld  of 
him.  Thus  we  have  him  completing  his  sin,  and  by  a 
strange  imposition  of  hands  persecuting  the  true  prophets, 
as  well  as  ordaining  false.  But  it  was  a  natural  transition, 
and  no  ways  wonderful  to  see  him,  who  stood  affronting  God 
with  false  incense  in  the  right  hand,  persecuting  with  the 
left,  and  abetting  the  idolatry  of  one  arm  with  the  violence 
of  the  other.  Now  if  we  lay  all  these  things  together,  and 
consider  the  parts,  rise,  and  degrees  of  his  sin,  we  shall  find, 
that  it  was  not  for  nothing  that  the  Spirit  of  God  so  fre 
quently  and  bitterly  in  scripture  stigmatizes  this  person  ;  for 
it  represents  him  first  encroaching  upon  the  civil  govern 
ment,  thence  changing  that  of  the  church,  debasing  the 
office  that  God  had  made  sacred,  introducing  a  false  way  of 
worship,  and  destroying  the  true.  And  in  this  we  have  a 

*  Cromwell  (a  lively  copy  of  Jeroboam)  did  so. 
VOL.  i.  5 


66  Religion  the  lest  Reason  of  State.  [SEEM.  rv. 

full  and  fair  description  of  a  foul  thing,  that  is,  of  an  usurper 
and  an  impostor :  or,  to  use  one  word  more  comprehensive 
than  both,  of  Jeroboam  the  son  of  Nebat,  who  made  Israel  to  sin. 
From  the  story  and  practice  of  Jeroboam,  we  might  gather 
these  observations : 

1.  That  God  sometimes  punishes  a  notorious  sin,  by  suffer 
ing  the  sinner  to  fall  into  a  worse. 

Thus  God  punished  the  rebellion  of  the  Israelites,  by  per 
mitting  them  to  fall  into  idolatry. 

2.  There  is  nothing  so  absurd,  but  may  be  obtruded  upon 
the  vulgar  under  pretense  of  religion. 

Certainly,  otherwise  a  golden  calf  could  never  have  been 
made  either  the  object  or  the  means  of  divine  worship. 

3.  Sin,  especially  that  of  perverting  God's  worship,  as  it 
leaves  a  guilt  upon  the  soul,  so  it  perpetuates  a  blot  upon  the 
name. 

Hence  nothing  so  frequent,  as  for  the  Spirit  of  God  to  ex 
press  wicked,  irreligious  kings,  by  comparing  them  to  Ahab 
or  Jeroboam.  It  being  usual  to  make  the  first  and  most  emi 
nent  in  any  kind,  not  only  the  standard  for  comparison,  but 
also  the  rule  of  expression. 

But  I  shall  insist  only  upon  the  words  of  the  text,  and  what 
shall  be  drawn  from  thence.  There  are  two  things  in  the 
words  that  may  seem  to  require  explication  : 

1.  What  is  meant  by  the  high  places. 

2.  What  by  the  consecration  of  the  priests. 

1.  Concerning  the  high  places.  The  use  of  these  in  the 
divine  worship  was  general  and  ancient;  and  as  Dionysius 
Vossius  observes  in  his  notes  upon  Moses  Maimonides,  the 
first  way  that  was  used,  long  before  temples  were  either  built 
or  thought  lawful.  The  reason  of  this  seems  to  be,  because 
those  places  could  not  be  thought  to  shut  up  or  confine  the 
immensity  of  God,  as  they  supposed  an  house  did ;  and  withal 
gave  his  worshipers  a  nearer  approach  to  heaven  by  their 
height.  Hence  we  read  that  the  Samaritans  worshiped 
upon  mount  Gerizim,  John  iv.  20 ;  and  Samuel  went  up  to 
the  high  place  to  sacrifice,  1  Sam.  ix.  14 ;  and  Solomon  sac 
rificed  at  the  high  place  in  Gibeon,  1  Kings  iii.  4.  Yea,  the 
temple  itself  was  at  length  built  upon  a  mount  or  high  place, 
2  Chron.  iii.  1.  You  will  say  then,  why  are  these  places 


1  KINGS  xiii.  33, 34.}    Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  67 

condemned  ?  I  answer,  that  the  use  of  them  was  not  con 
demned,  as  absolutely  and  always  unlawful  in  itself,  but  only 
after  the  temple  was  built,  and  that  God  had  professed  to 
put  his  name  in  that  place  and  no  other :  therefore,  what  was 
lawful  in  the  practice  of  Samuel  and  Solomon  before  the 
temple  was  in  being,  was  now  detestable  in  Jeroboam,  since 
that  was  constituted  by  God  the  only  place  for  his  worship. 
To  bring  this  consideration  to  the  times  of  Christianity. 
Because  the  apostles  and  primitive  Christians  preached  in 
houses,  and  had  only  private  meetings,  in  regard  they  were 
under  persecution,  and  had  no  churches ;  this  can  not  warrant 
the  practice  of  those  nowadays,  nor  a  toleration  of  them,  that 
prefer  houses  before  churches,  and  a  conventicle  before  the 
congregation. 

2.  For  the  second  thing,  which  is  the  consecration  of  the 
priests ;  it  seems  to  have  been  correspondent  to  ordination  in 
the  Christian  church.  Idolaters  themselves  were  not  so  far 
gone,  as  to  venture  upon  the  priesthood  without  consecration 
and  a  call.  To  show  all  the  solemnities  of  this  would  be 
tedious,  and  here  unnecessary :  the  Hebrew  word  which  we 
render  to  consecrate,  signifies  to  fill  the  hand,  which  indeed 
imports  the  manner  of  consecration,  which  was  done  by  filling 
the  hand  :  for  the  priest  cut  a  piece  of  the  sacrifice,  and  put 
it  into  the  hands  of  him  that  was  to  be  consecrated ;  by 
which  ceremony  he  received  right  to  sacrifice,  and  so  became 
a  priest.  As  our  ordination  in  the  Christian  church  is  said 
to  have  been  heretofore  transacted  by  the  bishop's  delivering 
of  the  Bible  into  the  hands  of  him  that  was  to  be  ordained, 
whereby  he  received  power  ministerially  to  dispense  the  mys 
teries  contained  in  it,  and  so  was  made  a  presbyter.  Thus 
much  briefly  concerning  consecration. 

There  remains  nothing  else  to  be  explained  in  the  words : 
I  shall  therefore  now  draw  forth  the  sense  of  them  into  these 
two  propositions : 

I.  The  surest  means  to  strengthen,  or  the  readiest  to  ruin 
the  civil  power,  is  either  to  establish  or  destroy  the  worship 
of  God  in  the  right  exercise  of  religion. 

II.  The  next  and  most  effectual  way  to  destroy  religion,  is 
to  embase  the  teachers  and  dispensers  of  it. 

Of  both  these  in  their  order. 


68  Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  [SEEM.  iv. 

For  the  prosecution  of  the  former  we  are  to  show, 

1.  The  truth  of  the  assertion,  that  it  is  so. 

2.  The  reason  of  the  assertion,  why  and  whence  it  is  so. 

1.  For  the  truth  of  it :  it  is  abundantly  evinced  from  all 
records  hoth  of  divine  and  profane  history,  in  which  he  that 
runs  may  read  the  ruin  of  the  state  in  the  destruction  of  the 
church ;  and  that  not  only  portended  by  it,  as  its  sign,  but 
also  inferred  from  it,  as  its  cause. 

2.  For  the  reason  of  the  point ;  it  may  be  drawn 

(1.)  From  the  judicial  proceeding  of  God,  the  great  King 
of  kings,  and  supreme  Ruler  of  the  universe ;  who  for  his 
commands  is  indeed  careful,  but  for  his  worship  jealous : 
and  therefore  in  states  notoriously  irreligious,  by  a  secret 
and  irresistible  power,  countermands  their  deepest  project, 
splits  their  counsels,  and  smites  their  most  refined  policies 
with  frustration  and  a  curse ;  being  resolved  that  the  king 
doms  of  the  world  shall  fall  down  before  him,  either  in  his 
adoration,  or  their  own  confusion. 

(2.)  The  reason  of  the  doctrine  may  be  drawn  from  the 
necessary  dependence  of  the  very  principles  of  government 
upon  religion.  And  this  I  shall  pursue  more  fully.  The 
great  business  of  government  is  to  procure  obedience,  and 
keep  off  disobedience :  the  great  springs  upon  which  those 
two  move  are  rewards  and  punishments,  answering  the  two 
ruling  affections  of  man's  mind,  hope  and  fear.  For  since 
there  is  a  natural  opposition  between  the  judgment  and  the 
appetite,  the  former  respecting  what  is  honest,  the  latter 
what  is  pleasing,  which  two  qualifications  seldom  concur  in 
the  same  thing,  and  since  withal  man's  design  in  every  action 
is  delight ;  therefore  to  render  things  honest  also  practicable, 
they  must  be  first  represented  desirable,  which  can  not  be, 
but  by  proposing  honesty  clothed  with  pleasure ;  and  since  it 
presents  no  pleasure  to  the  sense,  it  must  be  fetched  from  the 
apprehension  of  a  future  reward :  for  questionless  duty  moves 
not  so  much  upon  command  as  promise.  Now  therefore, 
that  which  proposes  the  greatest  and  most  suitable  rewards 
to  obedience,  and  the  greatest  terrors  and  punishments  to 
disobedience,  doubtless  is  the  most  likely  to  enforce  one,  and 
prevent  the  other.  But  it  is  religion  that  does  this,  which  to 
happiness  and  misery  joins  eternity.  And  these,  supposing 


1  KINGS  xiii.  33, 34.]   Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  69 

the  immortality  of  the  soul,  which  philosophy  indeed  con 
jectures,  but  only  religion  proves,  or  (which  is  as  good) 
persuades ;  I  say  these  two  things,  eternal  happiness  and 
eternal  misery,  meeting  with  a  persuasion  that  the  soul  is 
immortal,  are,  without  controversy,  of  all  others,  the  first  the 
most  desirable,  and  the  latter  the  most  horrible  to  human  ap 
prehension.  Were  it  not  for  these,  civil  government  were 
not  able  to  stand  before  the  prevailing  swing  of  corrupt  na 
ture,  which  would  know  no  honesty  but  advantage,  no  duty 
but  in  pleasure,  nor  any  law  but  its  own  will.  Were  not 
these  frequently  thundered  into  the  understandings  of  men, 
the  magistrate  might  enact,  order,  and  proclaim ;  proclama 
tions  might  be  hung  upon  walls  and  posts,  and  there  they 
might  hang,  seen  and  despised,  more  like  malefactors  than 
laws :  but  when  religion  binds  them  upon  the  conscience, 
conscience  will  either  persuade  or  terrify  men  into  their 
practice.  For  put  the  case,  a  man  knew,  and  that  upon  sure 
grounds,  that  he  might  do  an  advantageous  murder  or  rob 
bery,  and  not  be  discovered ;  what  human  laws  could  hinder 
him,  which,  he  knows,  can  not  inflict  any  penalty,  where 
they  can  make  no  discovery?  But  religion  assures  him, 
that  no  sin,  though  concealed  from  human  eyes,  can  either 
escape  God's  sight  in  this  world,  or  his  vengeance  in  the 
other.  Put  the  case  also,  that  men  looked  upon  death  with 
out  fear,  in  which  sense  it  is  nothing,  or  at  most  very  little ; 
ceasing,  while  it  is  endured,  and  probably  without  pain,  for 
it  seizes  upon  the  vitals,  and  benumbs  the  senses,  and  where 
there  is  no  sense,  there  can  be  no  pain  :  I  say,  if  while  a  man 
is  acting  his  will  towards  sin,  he  should  also  thus  act  his 
reason  to  despise  death,  where  would  be  the  terror  of  the 
magistrate,  who  can  neither  threaten  nor  inflict  any  more  ? 
Hence  an  old  malefactor  in  his  execution  at  the  gallows 
made  no  other  confession  but  this  ;  that  he  had  very  jocundly 
passed  over  his  life  in  such  courses ;  and  he  that  would  not 
for  fifty  years'  pleasure  endure  half  an  hour's  pain,  deserved 
to  die  a  worse  death  than  himself.  Questionless  this  man 
was  not  ignorant  before,  that  there  were  such  things  as 
laws,  assizes,  and  gallows ;  but  had  he  considered  and  be 
lieved  the  terrors  of  another  world,  he  might  probably  have 
found  a  fairer  passage  out  of  this.  If  there  was  not  a  min- 


70  Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.          [SEEM.  iv. 

ister  in  every  parish,  you  would  quickly  find  cause  to  in 
crease  the  number  of  constables  :  and  if  the  churches  were 
not  employed  to  be  places  to  hear  God's  law,  there  would  be 
need  of  them  to  be  prisons  for  the  breakers  of  the  laws  of 
men.  Hence  it  is  observable,  that  the  tribe  of  Levi  had  not 
one  place  or  portion  together,  like  the  rest  of  the  tribes : 
but,  because  it  was  their  office  to  dispense  religion,  they  were 
diffused  over  all  the  tribes,  that  they  might  be  continually 
preaching  to  the  rest  their  duty  to  God ;  which  is  the  most 
effectual  way  to  dispose  them  to  obedience  to  man :  for  he 
that  truly  fears  God  can  not  despise  the  magistrate.  Yea,  so 
near  is  the  connection  between  the  civil  state  and  religious, 
that  heretofore,  if  you  look  upon  well-regulated,  civilized 
heathen  nations,  you  will  find  the  government  and  the  priest 
hood  united  in  the  same  person  ;  Anius  rex  idem  hominum, 
Phcebique  sacerdos,  Virg.  3  Mu.  if  under  the  true  worship 
of  God ;  Melchisedech,  king  of  Salem,  and  priest  of  the  most 
high  God,  Hebrews  vii.  1.  And  afterwards  Moses,  (whom 
as  we  acknowledge  a  pious,  so  atheists  themselves  will  con 
fess  to  have  been  a  wise  prince,)  he,  when  he  took  the  kingly 
government  upon  himself,  by  his  own  choice,  seconded  by  di 
vine  institution,  vested  the  priesthood  in  his  brother  Aaron, 
both  whose  concernments  were  so  coupled,  that  if  nature  had 
not,  yet  their  religious,  nay,  their  civil  interests,  would  have 
made  them  brothers.  And  it  was  once  the  design  of  the  em 
peror  of  Germany,  Maximilian  the  first,  to  have  joined  the 
popedom  and  the  empire  together,  and  to  have  got  himself 
chosen  pope,  and  by  that  means  derived  the  papacy  to  suc 
ceeding  emperors.  Had  he  effected  it,  doubtless  there  would 
not  have  been  such  scuffles  between  them  and  the  bishop  of 
Rome ;  the  civil  interest  of  the  state  would  not  have  been 
undermined  by  an  adverse  interest,  managed  by  the  specious 
and  potent  pretenses  of  religion.  And  to  see,  even  amongst 
us,  how  these  two  are  united,  how  the  former  is  upheld  by 
the  latter :  the  magistrate  sometimes  can  not  do  his  own 
office  dexterously,  but  by  acting  the  minister :  hence  it  is, 
that  judges  of  assizes  find  it  necessary  in  their  charges  to  use 
pathetical  discourses  of  conscience ;  and  if  it  were  not  for  the 
sway  of  this,  they  would  often  lose  the  best  evidence  in  the 
world  against  malefactors,  which  is  confession :  for  no  man 


i  KINGS  xiii.  33, 34.]    Eeligion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  71 

would  confess  and  be  hanged  here,  but  to  avoid  being 
damned  hereafter.  Thus  I  have  in  general  shown  the  utter 
inability  of  the  magistrate  to  attain  the  ends  of  government, 
without  the  aid  of  religion.  But  it  may  be  here  replied,  that 
many  are  not  at  all  moved  with  arguments  drawn  from  hence, 
or  with  the  happy  or  miserable  state  of  the  soul  after  death  ; 
and  therefore  this  avails  little  to  procure  obedience,  and  con 
sequently  to  advance  government.  I  answer  by  concession : 
that  this  is  true  of  epicures,  atheists,  and  some  pretended 
philosophers,  who  have  stifled  the  notions  of  a  Deity  and  the 
soul's  immortality ;  but  the  unprepossessed  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  well-disposed  on  the  other,  who  both  together  make 
much  the  major  part  of  the  world,  are  very  apt  to  be  affected 
with  a  due  fear  of  these  things  :  and  religion,  accommodating 
itself  to  the  generality,  though  not  to  every  particular  tem 
per,  sufficiently  secures  government;  inasmuch  as  that  stands 
or  falls  according  to  the  behavior  of  the  multitude.  And 
whatsoever  conscience  makes  the  generality  obey,  to  that 
prudence  will  make  the  rest  conform.  Wherefore,  having 
proved  the  dependence  of  government  upon  religion,  I  shall 
now  demonstrate,  that  the  safety  of  government  depends 
upon  the  truth  of  religion.  False  religion  is,  in  its  nature, 
the  greatest  bane  and  destruction  to  government  in  the  world. 
The  reason  is,  because  whatsoever  is  false,  is  also  weak.  Ens 
and  verum  in  philosophy  are  the  same :  and  so  much  as  any 
religion  has  of  falsity,  it  loses  of  strength  and  existence. 
Falsity  gains  authority  only  from  ignorance,  and  therefore  is 
in  danger  to  be  known ;  for  from  being  false,  the  next  im 
mediate  step  is  to  be  known  to  be  such.  And  what  preju 
dice  this  would  be  to  the  civil  government,  is  apparent,  if 
men  should  be  awed  into  obedience,  and  affrighted  from  sin 
by  rewards  and  punishments,  proposed  to  them  in  such  a 
religion,  which  afterwards  should  be  detected,  and  found  a 
mere  falsity  and  cheat;  for  if  one  part  be  but  found  to  be 
false,  it  will  make  the  whole  suspicious.  And  men  will  then 
not  only  cast  off  obedience  to  the  civil  magistrate,  but  they 
will  do  it  with  disdain  and  rage,  that  they  have  been  deceived 
so  long,  and  brought  to  do  that  out  of  conscience,  which  was 
imposed  upon  them  out  of  design  :  for  though  men  are  often 
willingly  deceived,  yet  still  it  must  be  under  an  opinion  of 


72  Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  [SEEM.  iv. 

being  instructed;  though  they  love  the  deception,  yet  they 
mortally  hate  it  under  that  appearance :  therefore  it  is  no 
ways  safe  for  a  magistrate,  who  is  to  huild  his  dominion  upon 
the  fears  of  men,  to  build  those  fears  upon  a  false  religion. 
It  is  not  to  be  doubted,  but  the  absurdity  of  Jeroboam's 
calves  made  many  Israelites  turn  subjects  to  Rehoboam's 
government,  that  they  might  be  proselytes  to  his  religion. 
Herein  the  weakness  of  the  Turkish  religion  appears,  that  it 
urges  obedience  upon  the  promise  of  such  absurd  rewards,  as, 
that  after  death  they  should  have  palaces,  gardens,  beautiful 
women,  with  all  the  luxury  that  could  be  :  as  if  those  things, 
that  were  the  occasions  and  incentives  of  sin  in  this  world, 
could  be  the  rewards  of  holiness  in  the  other  :  besides  many 
other  inventions,  false  and  absurd,  that  are  like  so  many 
chinks  and  holes  to  discover  the  rottenness  of  the  whole 
fabric,  when  God  shall  be  pleased  to  give  light  to  discover 
and  open  their  reasons  to  discern  them.  But  you  will  say, 
what  government  more  sure  and  absolute  than  the  Turkish, 
and  yet  what  religion  more  false  ?  Therefore,  certainly  gov 
ernment  may  stand  sure  and  strong,  be  the  religion  professed 
never  so  absurd.  I  answer,  that  it  may  do  so  indeed  by  ac 
cident,  through  the  strange  peculiar  temper  and  gross  igno 
rance  of  a  people ;  as  we  see  it  happens  in  the  Turks,  the 
best  part  of  whose  policy,  supposing  the  absurdity  of  their 
religion,  is  this,  that  they  prohibit  schools  of  learning ;  for 
this  hinders  knowledge  and  disputes,  which  such  a  religion 
would  not  bear.  But  suppose  we,  that  the  learning  of  these 
western  nations  were  as  great  there  as  here,  and  the  Alcoran 
as  common  to  them  as  the  Bible  to  us,  that  they  might  have 
free  recourse  to  search  and  examine  the  flaws  and  follies  of 
it ;  and  withal,  that  they  were  of  as  inquisitive  a  temper  as 
we :  and  who  knows,  but  as  there  are  vicissitudes  in  the 
government,  so  there  may  happen  the  same  also  in  the  tem 
per  of  a  nation  ?  If  this  should  come  to  pass,  where  would 
be  their  religion  ?  And  then  let  every  one  judge,  whether 
the  arcana  imperil  and  religionis  would  not  fall  together. 
They  have  begun  to  totter  already;  for  Mahomet  having 
promised  to  come  and  visit  his  followers,  and  translate  them 
to  paradise  after  a  thousand  years,  this  being  expired,  many 
of  the  Persians  began  to  doubt  and  smell  the  cheat,  till  the 


1  KINGS  xiii.  33, 34.]    Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  73 

Mufti  or  chief  priest  told  them  that  it  was  a  mistake  in  the 
figure,  and  assured  them,  that  upon  more  diligent  survey  of 
the  records,  he  found  it  two  thousand  instead  of  one.  When 
this  is  expired,  perhaps  they  will  not  be  able  to  renew  the 
fallacy.  I  say  therefore,  that  though  his  government  contin 
ues  firm  in  the  exercise  of  a  false  religion,  yet  this  is  by  ac 
cident,  through  the  present  genius  of  the  people,  which  may 
change  ;  but  this  does  not  prove,  but  that  the  nature  of  such 
a  religion  (of  which  we  only  now  speak)  tends  to  subvert  and 
betray  the  civil  power.  Hence  Machiavel  himself,  in  his  ani 
madversions  upon  Livy,  makes  it  appear,  that  the  weakness 
of  Italy,  which  was  once  so  strong,  was  caused  by  the  corrupt 
practices  of  the  papacy,  in  depraving  and  misusing  religion 
to  that  purpose,  which  he,  though  himself  a  papist,  says, 
could  not  have  happened,  had  the  Christian  religion  been 
kept  in  its  first  and  native  simplicity.  Thus  much  may 
suffice  for  the  clearing  of  the  first  proposition. 

The  inferences  from  hence  are  two : 

1.  If  government  depends  upon  religion,  then  this  shows 
the  pestilential  design  of  those  that  attempt  to  disjoin  the 
civil  and  ecclesiastical  interest,  setting  the  latter  wholly  out 
of  the  tuition  of  the  former.  But  it  is  clear  that  the  fanatics 
know  no  other  step  to  the  magistracy,  but  through  the  ruin 
of  the  ministry.  There  is  a  great  analogy  between  the  body 
natural  and  politic;  in  which  the  ecclesiastical  or  spiritual 
part  justly  supplies  the  part  of  the  soul ;  and  the  violent 
separation  of  this  from  the  other  does  as  certainly  infer  death 
and  dissolution,  as  the  disjunction  of  the  body  and  the  soul 
in  the  natural ;  for  when  this  once  departs,  it  leaves  the  body 
of  the  commonwealth  a  carcass,  noisome,  and  exposed  to  be 
devoured  by  birds  of  prey.  The  ministry  will  be  one  day 
found,  according  to  Christ's  word,  the  salt  of  the  earth,  the 
only  thing  that  keeps  societies  of  men  from  stench  and  cor 
ruption.  These  two  interests  are  of  that  nature,  that  it  is  to 
be  feared  they  can  not  be  divided,  but  they  will  also  prove 
opposite ;  and  not  resting  in  a  bare  diversity,  quickly  rise 
into  a  contrariety :  these  two  are  to  the  state,  what  the  ele 
ments  of  fire  and  water  to  the  body,  which  united  compose, 
separated  destroy  it.  I  am  not  of  the  papist's  opinion,  who 
would  make  the  spiritual  above  the  civil  state  in  power  as 


74  Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  [SEEM.  iv. 

well  as  dignity,  but  rather  subject  it  to  the  civil ;  yet  thus 
much  I  dare  affirm,  that  the  civil,  which  is  superior,  is  up 
held  and  kept  in  being  by  the  ecclesiastical  and  inferior ;  as 
it  is  in  a  building,  where  the  upper  part  is  supported  by  the 
lower ,  the  church  resembling  the  foundation,  which  indeed 
is  the  lowest  part,  but  the  most  considerable.  The  magis 
tracy  can  not  so  much  protect  the  ministry,  but  the  ministers 
may  do  more  in  serving  the  magistrate.  A  taste  of  which 
truth  you  may  take  from  the  holy  war,  to  which  how  fast  and 
eagerly  did  men  go,  when  the  priest  persuaded  them,  that 
whosoever  died  in  that  expedition  was  a  martyr  P  Those  that 
will  not  be  convinced  what  a  help  this  is  to  the  magistracy, 
would  find  how  considerable  it  is,  if  they  should  chance  to 
clash ;  this  would  certainly  eat  out  the  other.  For  the  mag 
istrate  can  not  urge  obedience  upon  such  potent  grounds,  as 
the  minister,  if  so  disposed,  can  urge  disobedience.  As  for 
instance,  if  my  governor  should  command  me  to  do  a  thing, 
or  I  must  die,  or  forfeit  my  estate ;  and  the  minister  steps  in, 
and  tells  me,  that  I  offend  God,  and  ruin  my  soul,  if  I  obey 
that  command,  it  is  easy  to  see  a  greater  force  in  this  per 
suasion  from  the  advantage  of  its  ground.  And  if  divines 
once  begin  to  curse  Meroz,  we  shall  see  that  Levi  can  use  the 
sword  as  well  as  Simeon;  and  although  ministers  do  not 
handle,  yet  they  can  employ  it.  This  shows  the  imprudence, 
as  well  as  the  danger  of  the  civil  magistrate's  exasperating 
those  that  can  fire  men's  consciences  against  him,  and  arm  his 
enemies  with  religion.  For  I  have  read  heretofore  of  some, 
that,  having  conceived  an  irreconcilable  hatred  of  the  civil 
magistrate,  prevailed  with  men  so  far,  that  they  went  to  resist 
him  even  out  of  conscience,  and  a  full  persuasion  and  dread 
upon  their  spirits,  that,  not  to  do  it,  were  to  desert  God,  and 
consequently  to  incur  damnation.*  Now  when  men's  rage  is 
both  heightened  and  sanctified  by  conscience,  the  war  will  be 
fierce  ;  for  what  is  done  out  of  conscience,  is  done  with  the 
utmost  activity.  And  then  Campanella's  speech  to  the  king 
of  Spain  will  be  found  true,  Eeligio  semper  vicit,  prcesertim 
armata :  which  sentence  deserves  seriously  to  be  considered 
by  all  governors,  and  timely  to  be  understood,  lest  it  comes 
to  be  felt. 

*  See  Serm.  on  Pror.  xii.  22. 


i  KINGS  xiii.  33, 34.]   Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  75 

2.  If  the  safety  of  government  is  founded  upon  the  truth  of 
religion,  then  this  shows  the  danger  of  any  thing  that  may 
make  even  the  true  religion  suspected  to  he  false.  To  he 
false,  and  to  he  thought  false,  is  all  one  in  respect  of  men, 
who  act  not  according  to  truth,  but  apprehension.  As  on  the 
contrary,  a  false  religion,  while  apprehended  true,  has  the 
force  and  efficacy  of  truth.  Now  there  is  nothing  more  apt 
to  induce  men  to  a  suspicion  of  any  religion,  than  frequent 
innovation  and  change  :  for  since  the  object  of  religion,  God, 
the  subject  of  it,  the  soul  of  man,  and  the  business  of  it,  truth, 
is  always  one  and  the  same ;  variety  and  novelty  is  a  just  pre 
sumption  of  falsity.  It  argues  sickness  and  distemper  in  the 
mind,  as  well  as  in  the  body,  when  a  man  is  continually  turn 
ing  and  tossing  from  one  side  to  the  other.  The  wise  Romans 
ever  dreaded  the  least  innovation  in  religion  :  hence  we  find 
the  advice  of  Maecenas  to  Augustus  Caesar,  in  Dion  Cassius,  in 
the  52d  book,  where  he  counsels  him  to  detest  and  persecute 
all  innovators  of  divine  worship,  not  only  as  contemners  of 
the  gods,  but  as  the  most  pernicious  disturbers  of  the  state  : 
for  when  men  venture  to  make  changes  in  things  sacred,  it 
argues  great  boldness  with  God,  and  this  naturally  imports 
little  belief  of  him :  which  if  the  people  once  perceive,  they 
will  take  their  creed  also,  not  from  the  magistrate's  laws,  but 
his  example.  Hence  in  England,  where  religion  has  been 
still  purifying,  and  hereupon  almost  always  in  the  fire  and  the 
furnace ;  atheists  and  irreligious  persons  have  took  no  small 
advantage  from  our  changes.  For  in  king  Edward  the  sixth's 
time,  the  divine  worship  was  twice  altered  in  two  new  litur 
gies.  In  the  first  of  queen  Mary,  the  protestant  religion  was 
persecuted  with  fire  and  fagot,  by  law  and  public  counsel  of 
the  same  persons,  who  had  so  lately  established  it.  Upon  the 
coming  in  of  queen  Elizabeth,  religion  was  changed  again, 
and  within  a  few  days  the  public  council  of  the  nation  made 
it  death  for  a  priest  to  convert  any  man  to  that  religion, 
which  before  with  so  much  eagerness  of  zeal  had  been  re 
stored.  So  that  it  is  observed  by  an  author,  that  in  the  space 
of  twelve  years  there  were  four  changes  about  religion  made 
in  England,  and  that  by  the  public  council  and  authority  of 
the  realm,  which  were  more  than  were  made  by  any  Christian 
state  throughout  the  world,  so  soon  one  after  another,  in  the 


76  Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  [SEKM.  iv. 

space  of  fifteen  hundred  years  before.  Hence  it  is,  that  the 
enemies  of  God  take  occasion  to  blaspheme,  and  call  our 
religion  statism.  And  now  adding  to  the  former,  those  many 
changes  that  have  happened  since,  I  am  afraid  we  shall  not 
so  easily  claw  off  that  name :  nor,  though  we  may  satisfy  our 
own  consciences  in  what  we  profess,  be  able  to  repel  and  clear 
off  the  objections  of  the  rational  world  about  us,  which,  not 
being  interested  in  our  changes  as  we  are,  will  not  judge  of 
them  as  we  judge ;  but  debate  them  by  impartial  reason,  by 
the  nature  of  the  thing,  the  general  practice  of  the  church ; 
against  which,  new  lights,  sudden  impulses  of  the  Spirit,  exr 
traordinary  calls,  will  be  but  weak  arguments  to  prove  any 
thing  but  the  madness  of  those  that  use  them,  and  that  the 
church  must  needs  wither,  being  blasted  with  such  inspira 
tions.  We  see  therefore  how  fatal  and  ridiculous  innovations 
in  the  church  are :  and  indeed  when  changes  are  so  frequent, 
it  is  not  properly  religion,  but  fashion.  This,  I  think,  we  may 
build  upon  as  a  sure  ground,  that  where  there  is  continual 
change,  there  is  great  show  of  uncertainty ;  and  uncertainty 
in  religion  is  a  shrewd  motive,  if  not  to  deny,  yet  to  doubt  of 
its  truth. 

Thus  much  for  the  first  doctrine.  I  proceed  now  to  the 
second,  viz.  That  the  next,  and  most  effectual  way  to  destroy 
religion,  is  to  embase  the  teachers  and  dispensers  of  it.  In 
the  handling  of  this  I  shall  show, 

1.  How  the  dispensers  of  religion,   the   ministers   of  the 
word,  are  embased  or  rendered  vile. 

2.  How  the  embasing  or  vilifying  them  is  a  means  to  de 
stroy  religion. 

1.  For  the  first  of  these,  the  ministers  and  dispensers  of 
the  word  are  rendered  base  or  vile  two  ways  : 

(1.)  By  divesting  them  of  all  temporal  privileges  and 
advantages,  as  inconsistent  with  their  calling.  It  is  strange, 
since  the  priest's  office  heretofore  was  always  splendid,  and 
almost  regal,  that  it  is  now  looked  upon  as  a  piece  of  religion, 
to  make  it  low  and  sordid.  So  that  the  use  of  the  word  min 
ister  is  brought  down  to  the  literal  signification  of  it,  a  ser 
vant  :  for  now  to  serve  and  to  minister,  servile  and  ministerial, 
are  terms  equivalent.  But  in  the  Old  Testament  the  same 
word  signifies  a  priest,  and  a  prince,  or  chief  ruler :  hence, 


1  KINGS  xiii.  33, 34.]   Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  77 

though  we  translate  it  priest  of  On,  (Gen.  xli.  45,)  and  priest 
of  Midian,  (Exod.  iii.  1,)  and  as  it  is  with  the  people  so  with  the 
priest,  Isa.  xxiv.  2,  Junius  and  Tremellius  render  all  these 
places,  not  by  sacerdos,  priest,  but  by  prwses,  that  is,  a  prince, 
or  at  least  a  chief  counsellor,  or  minister  of  state.  And  it  is 
strange,  that  the  name  should  be  the  same,  when  the  nature 
of  the  thing  is  so  exceeding  different.  The  like  also  may  be 
observed  in  other  languages,  that  the  most  illustrious  titles 
are  derived  from  things  sacred,  and  belonging  to  the  worship 
of  God.  ^e/Wros  was  the  title  of  the  Christian  Caesars  cor 
respondent  to  the  Latin  Augustus,  and  it  is  derived  from  the 
same  word  that  o-e/fooyxa,  cultus,  res  sacra,  or  sacrificium.  And 
it  is  usual  in  our  language  to  make  sacred  an  epithet  to 
majesty  ;  there  was  a  certain  royalty  in  things  sacred.  Hence 
the  Apostle,  who,  I  think,  was  no  enemy  to  the  simplicity  of 
the  gospel,  speaks  of  a  royal  priesthood,  1  Pet.  ii.  9,  which 
shows  at  least,  that  there  is  no  contradiction  or  impiety  in 
those  terms.  In  old  time,  before  the  placing  this  office  only 
in  the  line  of  Aaron,  the  head  of  the  family  and  the  first-born 
offered  sacrifice  for  the  rest ;  that  is,  was  their  priest.  And 
we  know,  that  such  rule  and  dignity  belonged  at  first  to  the 
masters  of  families,  that  they  had  jus  vitce  et  necis,  jurisdiction 
and  power  of  life  and  death  in  their  own  family ;  and  from 
hence  was  derived  the  beginning  of  kingly  government :  a 
king  being  only  a  civil  head,  or  master  of  a  politic  family,  the 
whole  people  ;  so  that  we  see  the  same  was  the  foundation  of 
the  royal  and  sacerdotal  dignity.  As  for  the  dignity  of  this 
office  among  the  Jews,  it  is  so  pregnantly  set  forth  in  holy 
writ,  that  it  is  unquestionable.  Kings  and  priests  are  still 
mentioned  together :  Lam.  ii.  6,  The  Lord  hath  despised  in 
the  indignation  of  his  anger  the  king  and  the  priest.  Hos.  v.  1, 
Hear,  0  priests,  and  give  ear,  0  house  of  the  king.  Deut.  xvii. 
12,  And  the  man  that  doth  presumptuously,  and  will  not 
hearken  unto  the  priest  that  standeth  there  to  minister  before  the 
Lord  thy  God,  or  unto  the  judge,  even  tJmt  man  shall  die. 
Hence  Paul,  together  with  a  blow,  received  this  reprehension, 
Acts  xxiii.  4,  Revikst  thou  God's  high  priest  ?  And  Paul  in  the 
next  verse  does  not  defend  himself,  by  pleading  an  extraor 
dinary  motion  of  the  Spirit,  or  that  he  was  sent  to  reform 
the  church,  and  might  therefore  lawfully  vilify  the  priesthood 


78  Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  [SEKM.  iv. 

and  all  sacred  orders  ;  but  in  the  5th  verse  he  makes  an  excuse, 
and  that  from  ignorance,  the  only  thing  that  could  take  away 
the  fault ;  namely,  that  he  knew  not  that  he  was  the  high  priest, 
and  subjoins  a  reason  which  further  advances  the  truth  here 
defended  :  for  it  is  written,  Thou  shalt  not  speak  evil  of  the  ruler 
of  thy  people.  To  holy  writ  we  might  add  the  testimony  of 
Josephus,  of  next  authority  to  it  in  things  concerning  the 
Jews,  who  in  sundry  places  of  his  history  sets  forth  the  dig 
nity  of  the  priests ;  and  in  his  second  book  against  Apion 
the  grammarian  has  these  words  TTOVTW  ™v  d/x^tcr^T^-ov/xcVwv 
SiKcwrrai  ot  tepees  erax&pav,  the  priests  were  constituted  judges 
of  all  doubtful  causes.  Hence  Justin  also  in  his  36th  book 
has  this :  Semper  apud  Judceos  mos  fuit,  ut  eosdem  reges  et 
sacerdotes  haberent :  though  this  is  false,  that  they  were  always 
so,  yet  it  argues,  that  they  were  so  frequently,  and  that  the 
distance  between  them  was  not  great.  To  the  Jews  we  may 
join  the  Egyptians,  the  first  masters  of  learning  and  philoso 
phy.  Synesius  in  his  57th  epist.  having  shown  the  general 

practice  Of  antiquity,  6  TraXat  xpovos  ^j/ey/ce  TOI>?  avrovs  tepe'as  re  /cat 

/cpiras,  gives  an  instance  in  the  Jews  and  Egyptians,  who  for 
many  ages  £TTO  rwi/  tepeW  tftaa-iXcvOrjo-av,  had  no  other  kings  but 
priests.  Next,  we  may  take  a  view  of  the  practice  of  the 
Romans :  Numa  Pompilius,  that  civilized  the  fierce  Romans, 
is  reported  in  the  first  book  of  Livy  sometimes  to  have  per 
formed  the  priest's  office  himself.  Turn  sacerdotibus  oreandis 
animum  adjedt,  quanquam  ipse  plurima  sacra  obibat ;  but  when 
he  made  priests,  he  gave  them  a  dignity  almost  the  same 
with  himself.  And  this  honor  continued  together  with  the 
valor  and  prudence  of  that  nation  :  for  the  success  of  the 
Romans  did  not  extirpate  their  religion ;  the  college  of  the 
priests  being  in  many  things  exempted  even  from  the  juris 
diction  of  the  senate,  afterwards  the  supreme  power.  Hence 
Juvenal  in  his  2d  Sat.  mentions  the  priesthood  of  Mars,  as 
one  of  the  most  honorable  places  in  Rome.  And  Jul.  Caesar, 
who  was  chosen  priest  in  his  private  condition,  thought  it  not 
below  him  to  continue  the  same  office  when  he  was  created 
absolute  governor  of  Rome,  under  the  name  of  perpetual 
dictator.  Add  to  these  the  practice  of  the  Gauls  mentioned 
by  Caesar  in  his  6th  book  de  Bello  Gallico,  where  he  says  of 
the  Druids,  who  were  their  priests,  that  they  did  judge  de 


i  KINGS  xiii.  33, 34.]   Religion  the  lest  Reason  of  State.  79 

omnibus  fere  controversiis  piiblicis  privatisque.  See  also  Homer 
in  the  1st  book  of  his  Iliad  representing  Chryses  priest  of 
Apollo,  with  his  golden  sceptre,  as  well  as  his  golden  censer. 
But  why  have  I  produced  all  these  examples  of  the  heathens  ? 
Is  it  to  make  these  a  ground  of  our  imitation  ?  No,  but  to 
show  that  the  giving  honor  to  the  priesthood  was  a  custom 
universal  amongst  all  civilized  nations.  And  whatsoever  is 
universal  is  also  natural,  as  not  being  founded  upon  compact, 
or  the  particular  humors  of  men,  but  flowing  from  the  native 
results  of  reason  :  and  that  which  is  natural  neither  does  nor 
can  oppose  religion.  But  you  will  say,  this  concerns  not  us, 
who  have  an  express  rule  and  word  revealed.  Christ  was 
himself  poor  and  despised,  and  withal  has  instituted  such  a 
ministry.  To  the  first  part  of  this  plea  I  answer,  that  Christ 
came  to  suffer,  yet  the  sufferings  and  miseries  of  Christ  do 
not  oblige  all  Christians  to  undertake  the  like.  For  the 
second,  that  the  ministry  of  Christ  was  low  and  despised  by 
his  institution,  I  utterly  deny.  It  was  so,  indeed,  by  the 
malice  and  persecution  of  the  heathen  princes ;  but  what  does 
this  argue  or  infer  for  a  low,  dejected  ministry  in  a  flourishing 
state,  which  professes  to  encourage  Christianity?  But  to 
dash  this  cavil,  read  but  the  practice  of  Christian  emperors 
and  kings  all  along,  down  from  the  time  of  Constantine,  in 
what  respect,  what  honor  and  splendor  they  treated  the  min 
isters  ;  and  then  let  our  adversaries  produce  their  puny, 
pitiful  arguments  for  the  contrary,  against  the  general,  clear, 
undoubted  vogue  and  current  of  all  antiquity.  As  for  two  or 
three  little  countries  about  us,  the  learned  and  impartial  will 
not  value  their  practice  ;  in  one  of  which  places  the  minister 
has  been  seen,  for  mere  want,  to  mend  shoes  on  the  Saturday, 
and  been  heard  to  preach  on  the  Sunday.  In  the  other  place, 
stating  the  several  orders  of  the  citizens,  they  place  their 
ministers  after  their  apothecaries ;  that  is,  the  physician  of 
the  soul  after  the  dragster  of  the  body :  a  fit  practice  for 
those,  who,  if  they  were  to  rank  things  as  well  as  persons, 
would  place  their  religion  after  their  trade. 

And  thus  much  concerning  the  first  way  of  debasing  the 
ministers  and  ministry. 

(2.)  The  second  way  is  by  admitting  ignorant,  sordid,  il 
literate  persons  to  this  function.  This  is  to  give  the  royal 


80  Religion  the  best  Reason  of  State.  [SERM.  iv. 

stamp  to  a  piece  of  lead.  I  confess,  God  has  no  need  of  any 
man's  parts  or  learning1;  but  certainly  then,  he  has  much 
less  need  of  his  ignorance  and  ill  behavior.  It  is  a  sad  thing, 
when  all  other  employments  shall  empty  themselves  into  the 
ministry:  when  men  shall  repair  to  it,  not  for  preferment, 
but  refuge ;  like  malefactors  flying  to  the  altar,  only  to  save 
their  lives ;  or  like  those  of  Eli's  race,  (1  Sam.  ii.  36,)  that 
should  come  crouching,  and  seek  to  be  put  into  the  priest's 
office  that  they  might  eat  a  piece  of  bread.  Heretofore  there 
was  required  splendor  of  parentage  to  recommend  any  one  to 
the  priesthood,  as  Josephus  witnesses  in  a  treatise  which  he 
wrote  of  his  own  life ;  where  he  says,  to  have  right  to  deal  in 
things  sacred,  was,  amongst  them,  accounted  an  argument 
of  a  noble  and  illustrious  descent.  God  would  not  accept  the 
offals  of  other  professions.  Doubtless  many  rejected  Christ 
upon  this  thought,  that  he  was  the  carpenter's  son,  who 
would  have  embraced  him,  had  they  known  him  to  have  been 
the  son  of  David.  The  preferring  underserving  persons  to 
this  great  service  was  eminently  Jeroboam's  sin,  and  how 
Jeroboam's  practice  and  offense  has  been  continued  amongst 
us  in  another  guise,  is  not  unknown :  for  has  not  learning 
unqualified  men  for  approbation  to  the  ministry?  have  not 
parts  and  abilities  been  reputed  enemies  to  grace,  and  quali 
ties  no  ways  ministerial  ?  while  friends,  faction,  well  -  mean 
ing,  and  little  understanding  have  been  accomplishments 
beyond  study  and  the  university;  and  to  falsify  a  story  of 
conversion,  beyond  pertinent  answers  and  clear  resolutions  to 
the  hardest  and  most  concerning  questions.  So  that  matters 
have  been  brought  to  this  pass,  that  if  a  man  amongst  his 
sons  had  any  blind,  or  disfigured,  he  laid  him  aside  for  the 
ministry ;  and  such  an  one  was  presently  approved,  as  having 
a  mortified  countenance.  In  short,  it  was  a  fiery  furnace, 
which  often  approved  dross,  and  rejected  gold.  But  thanks 
be  to  God,  those  spiritual  wickednesses  are  now  discharged  from 
their  high  places.  Hence  it  was,  that  many  rushed  into  the 
ministry,  as  being  the  only  calling  that  they  could  profess 
without  serving  an  apprenticeship.  Hence  also  we  had  those 
that  could  preach  sermons,  but  not  defend  them.  The  reason 
of  which  is  clear,  because  the  works  and  writings  of  learned 
men  might  be  borrowed,  but  not  the  abilities.  Had  indeed 


i  KINGS  xiii.  33, 34.]     Religion  the  Best  Reason  of  State.  81 

the  old  Levitical  hierarchy  still  continued,  in  which  it  was 
part  of  the  ministerial  office  to  flay  the  sacrifices,  to  cleanse 
the  vessels,  to  scour  the  flesh-forks,  to  sweep  the  temple,  and 
carry  the  filth  and  rubbish  to  the  brook  Kidron,  no  persons 
living  had  been  fitter  for  the  ministry,  and  to  serve  in  this 
nature  at  the  altar.  But  since  it  is  made  a  labor  of  the  mind ; 
as  to  inform  men's  judgments,  and  move  their  affections,  to 
resolve  difficult  places  of  scripture,  to  decide  and  clear  off 
controversies ;  I  can  not  see  how  to  be  a  butcher,  scavenger, 
or  any  other  such  trade,  does  at  all  qualify  or  prepare  men  for 
this  work.  But  as  unfit  as  they  were,  yet  to  clear  a  way  for 
such  into  the  ministry,  we  have  had  almost  all  sermons  full 
of  gibes  and  scoffs  at  human  learning.  Away  with  vain  phi 
losophy,  with  the  disputer  of  this  world,  and  the  enticing  words  of 
man's  wisdom,  and  set  up  the  foolishness  of  preaching,  the  sim 
plicity  of  the  gospel :  thus  divinity  has  been  brought  in  upon 
the  ruins  of  humanity  ;  by  forcing  the  words  of  the  scripture 
from  the  sense,  and  then  haling  them  to  the  worst  of  drudg 
eries,  to  set  a  jus  divinwn  upon  ignorance  and  imperfection, 
and  recommend  natural  weakness  for  supernatural  grace. 
Hereupon  the  ignorant  have  took  heart  to  venture  upon  this 
great  calling,  and  instead  of  cutting  their  way  to  it,  according 
to  the  usual  course,  through  the  knowledge  of  the  tongues, 
the  study  of  philosophy,  school  divinity,  the  fathers  and 
councils,  they  have  taken  another  and  a  shorter  cut ;  and 
having  read  perhaps  a  treatise  or  two  upon  the  Heart,  tlie 
bruised  Reed,  the  Crumbs  of  Comfort,  Wollebius  in  English, 
and  some  other  little  authors,  the  usual  furniture  of  old 
women's  closets,  they  have  set  forth  as  accomplished  divines, 
and  forthwith  they  present  themselves  to  the  service ;  and 
there  have  not  been  wanting  Jeroboams  as  willing  to  conse 
crate  and  receive  them,  as  they  to  offer  themselves.  And 
this  has  been  one  of  the  most  fatal  and  almost  irrecoverable 
blows  that  has  been  given  to  the  ministry. 

And  this  may  suffice  concerning  the  second  way  of  em- 
basing  God's  ministers;  namely,  by  intrusting  the  ministry 
with  raw,  unlearned,  ill-bred  persons  ;  so  that  what  Solomon 
speaks  of  a  proverb  in  the  mouth. of  a  fool,  the  same  may  be 
said  of  the  ministry  vested  in  them,  that  it  is  like  a  pearl  in  a 
swine's  snout. 

VOL.  I.  6 


82  Religion  the  Best  Reason  of  State.          [SERM.  iv. 

2.  I  proceed  now  to  the  second  thing  proposed  in  the  dis 
cussion  of  this  doctrine,  which  is,  to  show  how  the  embasing 
of  the  ministers  tends  to  the  destruction  of  religion. 

This  it  does  two  ways. 

(1.)  Because  it  brings  them  under  exceeding  scorn  and 
contempt ;  and  then,  let  none  think  religion  itself  secure : 
for  the  vulgar  have  not  such  logical  heads,  as  to  be  able  to 
abstract  such  subtle  conceptions  as  to  separate  the  man  from 
the  minister,  or  to  consider  the  same  person  under  a  double 
capacity,  and  so  honor  him  as  a  divine,  while  they  despise 
him  as  poor.  But  suppose  they  could,  yet  actions  can  not 
distinguish,  as  conceptions  do ;  and  therefore  every  act  of 
contempt  strikes  at  both,  and  unavoidably  wounds  the  min 
istry  through  the  sides  of  the  minister.  And  we  must  know, 
that  the  least  degree  of  contempt  weakens  religion,  because 
it  is  absolutely  contrary  to  the  nature  of  it ;  religion  properly 
consisting  in  a  reverential  esteem  of  things  sacred.  Now 
that  which  in  any  measure  weakens  religion,  will  at  length 
destroy  it :  for  the  weakening  of  a  thing  is  only  a  partial 
destruction  of  it.  Poverty  and  meanness  of  condition  ex 
pose  the  wisest  to  scorn,  it  being  natural  for  men  to  place 
their  esteem  rather  upon  things  great  than  good;  and  the 
poet  observes,  that  this  infelix  paupertas  has  nothing  in  it 
more  intolerable  than  this,  that  it  renders  men  ridiculous. 
And  then,  how  easy  and  natural  it  is  for  contempt  to  pass 
from  the  person  to  the  office,  from  him  that  speaks,  to  the 
thing  that  he  speaks  of,  experience  proves:  counsel  being 
seldom  valued  so  much  for  the  truth  of  the  thing,  as  the 
credit  of  him  that  gives  it.  Observe  an  excellent  passage  to 
this  purpose  in  Eccles.  ix.  14,  15.  We  have  an  account  of  a 
little  city,  with  few  men  in  it,  besieged  by  a  great  and  po 
tent  king,  and  in  the  15th  verse,  we  read,  that  there  was 
found  in  it  a  poor  wise  man,  and  he  by  his  wisdom  delivered  the 
city.  A  worthy  service  indeed,  and  certainly  we  may  expect 
that  some  honorable  recompense  should  follow  it ;  a  deliverer 
of  his  country,  and  that  in  such  distress,  could  not  but  be 
advanced :  but  we  find  a  contrary  event  in  the  next  words  of 
the  same  verse,  yet  none  remembered  that  same  poor  man. 
Why,  what  should  be  the  reason  ?  Was  he  not  a  man  of 
parts  and  wisdom  ?  and  is  not  wisdom  honorable  ?  Yes,  but 


i  KINGS  xiii.  33, 34.]     Religion  the  Best  Reason  of  State.  83 

he  was  poor.  But  was  he  not  also  successful,  as  well  as 
wise  ?  True ;  but  still  he  was  poor :  and  once  grant  this, 
and  you  can  not  keep  off  that  unavoidable  sequel  in  the  next 
verse,  the  poor  marts  wisdom  is  despised,  and  his  words  are  not 
heard.  We  may  believe  it  upon  Solomon's  word,  who  was 
rich  as  well  as  wise,  and  therefore  knew  the  force  of  both : 
and  probably,  had  it  not  been  for  his  riches,  the  queen  of 
Sheba  would  never  have  come  so  far  only  to  have  heard  his 
wisdom.  Observe  her  behavior  when  she  came :  though 
upon  the  hearing  of  Solomon's  wisdom,  and  the  resolution 
of  her  hard  questions,  she  expressed  a  just  admiration  ;  yet 
when  Solomon  afterwards  showed  her  his  palace,  his  treas 
ures,  and  the  temple  which  he  had  built,  1  Kings  x.  5,  it  is 
said,  there  ivas  no  more  spirit  in  her.  What  was  the  cause  of 
this?  Certainly,  the  magnificence,  the  pomp  and  splendor 
of  such  a  structure :  it  struck  her  into  an  ecstasy  beyond  his 
wise  answers.  She  esteemed  this  as  much  above  his  wisdom, 
as  astonishment  is  beyond  bare  admiration :  she  admired  his 
wisdom,  but  she  adored  his  magnificence.  So  apt  is  the 
mind,  even  of  wise  persons,  to  be  surprised  with  the  super 
ficies,  or  circumstance  of  things,  and  value  or  undervalue 
spirituals,  according  to  the  manner  of  their  external  appear 
ance.  When  circumstances  fail,  the  substance  seldom  long 
survives :  clothes  are  no  part  of  the  body ;  yet  take  away 
clothes,  and  the  body  will  die.  Livy  observes  of  Romulus, 
that  being  to  give  laws  to  his  new  Eomans,  he  found  no  better 
way  to  procure  an  esteem  and  reverence  to  them,  than  by 
first  procuring  it  to  himself  by  splendor  of  habit  and  retinue, 
and  other  signs  of  royalty.  And  the  wise  Numa,  his  succes 
sor,  took  the  same  course  to  enforce  his  religious  laws, 
namely,  by  giving  the  same  pomp  to  the  priest,  who  was  to 
dispense  them.  Sacerdotem  creavit,  insignique  eum  veste,  et 
curuli  regia  sella  adornavit.  That  is,  he  adorned  him  with  a 
rich  robe,  and  a  royal  chair  of  state.  And  in  our  judicatures, 
take  away  the  trumpet,  the  scarlet,  the  attendance,  and  the 
lordship,  which  would  be  to  make  justice  naked  as  well  as 
blind,  and  the  law  would  lose  much  of  its  terror,  and  conse 
quently  of  its  authority.  Let  the  minister  be  abject  and  low, 
his  interest  inconsiderable,  the  word  will  suffer  for  his  sake : 
the  message  will  still  find  reception  according1  to  the  dignity 


84  Religion  tlie  Best  Reason  of  State.         [SEEM.  iv. 

of  the  messenger.  Imagine  an  ambassador  presenting  him 
self  in  a  poor  frieze  jerkin  and  tattered  clothes,  certainly  he 
would  have  but  small  audience,  his  embassy  would  speed 
rather  according  to  the  weakness  of  him  that  brought,  than 
the  majesty  of  him  that  sent  it.  It  will  fare  alike  with  the 
ambassadors  of  Christ,  the  people  will  give  them  audience  ac 
cording  to  their  presence.  A  notable  example  of  which  we 
have  in  the  behavior  of  some  to  Paul  himself,  2  Cor.  x.  10. 
Hence  in  the  Jewish  church  it  was  cautiously  provided  in  the 
law,  that  none  that  was  blind  or  lame,  or  had  any  remark 
able  defect  in  his  body,  was  capable  of  the  priestly  office; 
because  these  things  naturally  make  a  person  contemned, 
and  this  presently  reflects  upon  the  function.  This  therefore 
is  the  first  way  by  which  the  low  despised  condition  of  the 
ministers  tends  to  the  destruction  of  the  ministry  and  relig 
ion  ;  namely,  because  it  subjects  their  persons  to  scorn,  and 
consequently  their  calling ;  and  it  is  not  imaginable  that  men 
will  be  brought  to  obey  what  they  can  not  esteem. 

(2.)  The  second  way  by  which  it  tends  to  the  ruin  of  the 
ministry  is,  because  it  discourages  men  of  fit  parts  and  abil 
ities  from  undertaking  it.  And  certain  it  is,  that  as  the 
calling  dignifies  the  man,  so  the  man  much  more  advances 
his  calling :  as  a  garment,  though  it  warms  the  body,  has 
a  return  with  an  advantage,  being  much  more  warmed  by  it. 
And  how  often  a  good  cause  may  miscarry  without  a  wise 
manager,  and  the  faith  for  want  of  a  defender,  is,  or  at  least 
may  be  known.  It  is  not  the  truth  of  an  assertion,  but  the 
skill  of  the  disputant,  that  keeps  off  a  baffle ;  not  the  just 
ness  of  a  cause,  but  the  valor  of  the  soldiers,  that  must  win 
the  field  :  when  a  learned  Paul  was  converted,  and  undertook 
the  ministry,  it  stopped  the  mouths  of  those  that  said,  None 
but  poor  weak  fishermen  preached  Christianity;  and  so  his 
learning  silenced  the  scandal,  as  well  as  strengthened  the 
church.  Religion,  placed  in  a  soul  of  exquisite  knowledge 
and  abilities,  as  in  a  castle,  finds  not  only  habitation,  but 
defense.  And  what  a  learned  foreign  divine*  said  of  the 
English  preaching,  may  be  said  of  all,  Plus  est  in  artifice 
quam  in  arte.  So  much  of  moment  is  there  in  the  profes 
sors  of  any  thing,  to  depress  or  raise  the  profession.  What 

*  Gaspar  Streso. 


i  KINGS  xiii.  33,  34.]     Religion  tlie  Best  Reason  of  State.  85 

is  it  that  kept  the  church  of  Rome  strong,  athletic,  and  flour 
ishing  for  so  many  centuries,  but  the  happy  succession  of  the 
choicest  wits  engaged  to  her  service  by  suitable  preferments  ? 
And  what  strength,  do  we  think,  would  that  give  to  the  true 
religion,  that  is  able  thus  to  establish  a  false  ?  Religion  in  a 
great  measure  stands  or  falls  according  to  the  abilities  of 
those  that  assert  it.  And  if,  as  some  observe,  men's  desires 
are  usually  as  large  as  their  abilities,  what  course  have  we 
took  to  allure  the  former,  that  we  might  engage  the  latter 
to  our  assistance  ?  But  we  have  took  all  ways  to  affright  and 
discourage  scholars  from  looking  towards  this  sacred  calling  : 
for  will  men  lay  out  their  wit  and  judgment  upon  that  em 
ployment,  for  the  undertaking  of  which  both  will  be  ques 
tioned  ?  Would  men,  not  long  since,  have  spent  toilsome 
days  and  watchful  nights,  in  the  laborious  quest  of  knowledge 
preparative  to  this  work,  at  length  to  come  and  dance  attend 
ance  for  approbation  upon  a  junto  of  petty  tyrants,  acted  by 
party  and  prejudice,  who  denied  fitness  from  learning,  and 
grace  from  morality  ?  Will  a  man  exhaust  his  livelihood  upon 
books,  and  his  health,  the  best  part  of  his  life,  upon  study, 
to  be  at  length  thrust  into  a  poor  village,  where  he  shall  have 
his  due  precariously,  and  entreat  for  his  own ;  and  when  he 
has  it,  live  poorly  and  contemptibly  upon  it ;  while  the  same 
or  less  labor,  bestowed  upon  any  other  calling,  would  bring 
not  only  comfort  but  splendor,  not  only  maintenance  but 
abundance  ?  It  is,  I  confess,  the  duty  of  ministers  to  endure 
this  condition ;  but  neither  religion  nor  reason  does  oblige 
either  them  to  approve,  or  others  to  choose  it.  Doubtless, 
parents  will  not  throw  away  the  towardness  of  a  child,  and 
the  expense  of  education,  upon  a  profession,  the  labor  of 
which  is  increased,  and  the  rewards  of  which  are  vanished : 
to  condemn  promising,  lively  parts  to  contempt  and  penury 
in  a  despised  calling,  what  is  it  else  but  the  casting  of  a 
Moses  into  the  mud,  or  offering  a  son  upon  the  altar ;  and 
instead  of  a  priest,  to  make  him  a  sacrifice  ?  Neither  let  any 
here  reply,  that  it  becomes  not  a  ministerial  spirit  to  under 
take  such  a  calling  for  reward ;  for  they  must  know,  that  it 
is  one  thing  to  undertake  it  for  a  reward,  and  not  to  be  will 
ing  to  undertake  it  without  one.  It  is  one  thing  to  perform 
good  works  only  that  we  may  receive  the  recompense  of  them 


86  Eeligwii  the  Best  Reason  of  State.         [SERM.  iv. 

in  heaven,  and  another  thing  not  to  be  willing  to  follow 
Christ  and  forsake  the  world,  if  there  were  no  such  recom 
pense.  But  besides,  suppose  it  were  the  duty  of  scholars  to 
choose  this  calling  in  the  midst  of  all  its  discouragements ; 
yet  a  prudent  governor,  who  knows  it  to  be  his  wisdom  as 
well  as  his  duty,  to  take  the  best  course  to  advance  religion, 
will  not  consider  men's  duty,  but  their  practice ;  not  what 
they  ought  to  do,  but  what  they  use  to  do :  and  therefore 
draw  over  the  best  qualified  to  his  service,  by  such  ways  as 
are  most  apt  to  persuade  and  induce  men.  Solomon  built  his 
temple  with  the  tallest  cedars :  and  surely,  when  God  refused 
the  defective  and  the  maimed  for  sacrifice,  we  can  not  think 
that  he  requires  them  for  the  priesthood.  When  learning, 
abilities,  and  what  is  excellent  in  the  world,  forsake  the 
church,  we  may  easily  foretell  its  ruin,  without  the  gift  of 
prophecy.  And  when  ignorance  succeeds  in  the  place  of 
learning,  weakness  in  the  room  of  judgment,  we  may  be  sure 
heresy  and  confusion  will  quickly  come  in  the  room  of  relig 
ion  :  for  undoubtedly  there  is  no  way  so  effectual  to  betray 
the  truth,  as  to  procure  it  a  weak  defender. 

Well  now,  instead  of  raising  any  particular  uses  from  the 
point  that  has  been  delivered,  let  us  make  a  brief  recapitula 
tion  of  the  whole.  Government,  we  see,  depends  upon  relig 
ion,  and  religion  upon  the  encouragement  of  those  that  are 
to  dispense  and  assert  it.  For  the  further  evidence  of  which 
truths,  we  need  not  travel  beyond  our  own  borders  ;  but  leave 
it  to  every  one  impartially  to  judge,  whether  from  the  very 
first  day  that  our  religion  was  unsettled,  and  church  govern 
ment  flung  out  of  doors,  the  civil  government  has  ever  been 
able  to  fix  upon  a  sure  foundation.  We  have  been  changing 
even  to  a  proverb.  The  indignation  of  heaven  has  been 
rolling  and  turning  us  from  one  form  to  another,  till  at 
length  such  a  giddiness  seized  upon  government,  that  it  fell 
into  the  very  dregs  of  sectaries,  who  threatened  an  equal 
ruin  both  to  minister  and  magistrate ;  and  how  the  state  has 
sympathized  with  the  church  is  apparent.  For  have  not  our 
princes  as  well  as  our  priests  been  of  the  lowest  of  the  people  ? 
Have  not  cobblers,  draymen,  mechanics,  governed,  as  well  as 
preached  ?  Nay,  have  not  they  by  preaching  come  to  govern  ? 
Was  ever  that  of  Solomon  more  verified,  that  servants  have  rid, 


xiii.  33,  34.]     Religion  the  Best  Reason  of  State.  87 

while  princes  and  nobles  have  gone  on  foot  ?  But  God  lias  been 
pleased  by  a  miracle  of  mercy  to  dissipate  this  confusion  and 
chaos,  and  to  give  us  some  openings,  some  dawnings  of  lib 
erty  and  settlement.  But  now,  let,  not  those  who  are  to  re 
build  our  Jerusalem  think  that  the  temple  must  be  built  last : 
for  if  there  be  such  a  thing  as  a  God,  and  religion,  as  whether 
men  believe  it  or  no,  they  will  one  day  find  and  feel,  assuredly 
he  will  stop  our  liberty,  till  we  restore  him  his  worship.  Be 
sides,  it  is  a  senseless  thing  in  reason,  to  think  that  one  of 
these  interests  can  stand  without  the  other,  when  in  the  very 
order  of  natural  causes,  government  is  preserved  by  religion. 
But  to  return  to  Jeroboam  with  whom  we  first  began.  He 
laid  the  foundation  of  his  government  in  destroying,  though 
doubtless  he  colored  it  with  the  name  of  reforming  God's 
worship  ;  but  see  the  issue.  Consider  him  cursed  by  God, 
maintaining  his  usurped  title  by  continual  vexatious  wars 
against  the  kings  of  Judah :  smote  in  his  prosperity,  which 
was  made  like  the  dung  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  as  low 
and  vile  as  those  priests  whom  he  had  employed :  consider 
him  branded,  and  made  odious  to  all  after-ages  :  and  now, 
when  his  kingdom  and  glory  was  at  an  end,  and  he  and  his 
posterity  rotting  under  ground,  and  his  name  stinking  above 
it,  judge  what  a  worthy  prize  he  made  in  getting  of  a  king 
dom,  by  destroying  the  church.  Wherefore  the  sum  of  all  is 
this :  to  advise  and  desire  those  whom  it  may  concern,  to 
consider  Jeroboam's  punishment,  and  then  they  will  have 
little  heart  to  Jeroboam's  sin. 


SERMON   V. 


A    SERMON   PREACHED    AT   LAMBETH    CHAPEL    ON    THE 
25TH    OF    NOVEMBER,    1666. 

UPON  THE  CONSECRATION  OF  THE  RIGHT  REVEREND  FATHER  IN  GOD  DR.  JOHN 
DOLBEN,  LORD  BISHOP  OF  ROCHESTER. 


TO  THE  RIGHT  REVEREND  FATHER  IN  GOD  JOHN,  LORD  BISHOP  OF  ROCHESTER, 
DEAN  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL  CHURCH  OF  WESTMINSTER,  AND  CLERK  OF  THE 
CLOSET  TO  HIS  MAJESTY. 

MY  LORD, 

r  I  THOUGH  the  interposal  of  my  Lord  of  Canterbury's  command 
-*-  for  the  publication  of  this  mean  discourse  may  seem  so  far 
to  determine,  as  even  to  take  away  my  choice ;  yet  I  must  own 
it  to  the  world,  that  it  is  solely  and  entirely  my  own  inclination, 
seconded  by  my  obligations  to  your  Lordship,  that  makes  this,  that 
was  so  lately  an  humble  attendant  upon  your  Lordship's  consecration, 
now  ambitious  to  consecrate  itself  with  your  Lordship's  name.  It 
was  my  honor  to  have  lived  in  the  same  college  with  your  Lordship, 
and  now  to  belong  to  the  same  cathedral,  where  at  present  you 
credit  the  church  as  much  by  your  government,  as  you  did  the  school 
formerly  by  your  wit.  Your  Lordship  even  then  grew  up  into  a  con 
stant  superiority  above  others ;  and  all  your  after-greatness  seems 
but  a  paraphrase  upon  those  promising  beginnings :  for  whatsoever 
you  are,  or  shall  be,  has  been  but  an  easy  prognostic  from  what  you 
were.  It  is  your  Lordship's  unhappiness  to  be  cast  upon  an  age  in 
which  the  church  is  in  its  wane ;  and  if  you  do  not  those  glorious 
things  that  our  English  prelates  did  two  or  three  hundred  years  since, 
it  is  not  because  your  Lordship  is  at  all  less  than  they,  but  because 
the  times  are  worse.  Witness  those  magnificent  buildings  in  Christ 
Church  in  Oxford,  begun  and  carried  on  by  your  Lordship ;  when  by 
your  place  you  governed,  and  by  your  wisdom  increased  the  treasure 
of  that  college:  and,  which  must  eternally  set  your  fame  above 
the  reach  of  envy  and  detraction,  these  great  structures  you  at 
tempted  at  a  time  when  you  returned  poor  and  bare,  to  a  college 


TITUS  ii.  15.]     Tlie  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.  89 

as  hare,  after  a  long  persecution,  and  before  you  had  laid  so  much  as 
one  stone  in  the  repairs  of  your  own  fortunes :  by  which  incompar 
ably  high  and  generous  undertaking,  you  have  shown  the  world  how 
fit  a  person  you  were  to  build  upon  Wolsey's  foundation  :  a  prelate 
whose  great  designs  you  imitate,  and  whose  mind  you  equal.  Briefly, 
that  Christ  Church  stands  so  high  above  ground,  and  that  the  church 
of  Westminster  lies  not  flat  upon  it,  is  your  Lordship's  commendation. 
And  therefore  your  Lordship  is  not  behindhand  with  the  church, 
paying  it  as  much  credit  and  support,  as  you  receive  from  it  ;  for 
you  owe  your  promotion  to  your  merit,  and,  I  am  sure,  your  merit  to 
yourself.  All  men  court  you,  not  so  much  because  a  great  person,  as 
a  public  good.  For,  as  a  friend,  there  is  none  so  hearty,  so  nobly 
warm  and  active  to  make  good  all  the  offices  of  that  endearing  re 
lation  ;  as  a  patron,  none  more  able  to  oblige  and  reward  your  de 
pendents,  and,  which  is  the  crowning  ornament  "of  power,  none  more 
willing.  And  lastly,  as  a  diocesan,  you  are  like  even  to  outdo  your 
self  in  all  other  capacities  ;  and,  in  a  word,  to  exemplify  and  realize 
every  word  of  the  following  discourse  :  which  is  here  most  humbly 
and  gratefully  presented  to  your  Lordship,  by 

Your  Lordship's 

most  obliged  servant, 

From  St.  James's,  ROBERT  SOUTH. 

Dec.  3,  1666. 


TITUS  ii.  15.  —  These  things  speak  and  exhort,  and  rebuke  with  all  authority.     Let  no 

man  despise  thee. 

TT  may  possibly  be  expected,  that  the  very  taking  of  my 
-*-  text  out  of  this  epistle  to  Titus  may  engage  me  in  a  dis 
course  about  the  nature,  original,  and  divine  right  of  epis 
copacy  ;  and  if  it  should,  it  were  no  more  than  what  some  of 
the  greatest  and  the  learnedest  persons  in  the  world  (when 
men  served  truth  instead  of  design)  had  done  before :  for  I 
must  profess,  that  I  can  not  look  upon  Titus  as  so  far  un- 
bishoped  yet,  hut  that  he  still  exhibits  to  us  all  the  essentials 
of  that  jurisdiction,  which  to  this  day  is  claimed  for  episcopal. 
We  are  told  in  the  fifth  verse  of  the  first  chapter,  that  he  was  left 
in  Crete  to  set  things  in  order,  and  to  ordain  elders  in  every  city  ; 
which  text  one  would  think  were  sufficiently  clear  and  full, 
and  too  big  with  evidence  to  he  perverted  :  hut  when  we  have 
seen  rebellion  commented  out  of  the  thirteenth  of  the  Ro- 


90  The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.        [SERM.  v. 

mans ;  and  since  there  are  few  things  but  admit  of  gloss  and 
probability,  and  consequently  may  be  expounded  as  well  as 
disputed  on  both  sides ;  it  is  no  such  wonder,  that  some 
would  bear  the  world  in  hand,  that  the  apostle's  design  and 
meaning  is  for  presbytery,  though  his  words  are  all  the  time 
for  episcopacy:  no  wonder,  I  say,  to  us  at  least,  who  have 
conversed  with  too  many  strange  unparalleled  actions,  occur 
rences,  and  events,  now  to  wonder  at  any  thing :  wonder  is 
from  surprise  ;  and  surprise  ceases  upon  experience. 

I  am  not  so  much  a  friend  to  the  stale  starched  formality 
of  preambles,  as  to  detain  so  great  an  audience  with  any 
previous  discourse  extrinsic  to  the  subject  matter  and  design 
of  the  text;  and  therefore  I  shall  fall  directly  upon  the 
words,  which  run  in  the  form  of  an  exhortation,  though  in 
appearance  a  very  strange  one ;  for  the  matter  of  an  exhorta 
tion  should  be  something  naturally  in  the  power  of  him  to 
whom  the  exhortation  is  directed.  For  no  man  exhorts 
another  to  be  strong,  beautiful,  witty,  or  the  like;  these 
are  the  felicities  of  some  conditions,  the  object  of  more 
wishes,  but  the  effects  of  no  man's  choice.  Nor  seems  there 
any  greater  reason  for  the  apostle's  exhorting  Titus,  that  no 
man  should  despise  him ;  for  how  could  another  man's  action 
be  his  duty  ?  Was  it  in  his  power  that  men  should  not  be 
wicked  and  injurious;  and  if  such  persons  would  despise 
him,  could  any  thing  pass  an  obligation  upon  him  not  to  be 
despised  ?  No,  this  can  not  be  the  meaning ;  and  therefore 
it  is  clear  that  the  exhortation  lies  not  against  the  action 
itself,  which  is  only  in  the  despiser's  power,  but  against  the 
just  occasion  of  it,  which  is  in  the  will  and  power  of  him 
that  is  despised  :  it  was  not  in  Titus's  power  that  men  should 
not  despise  him,  but  it  was  in  his  power  to  bereave  them  of 
all  just  cause  of  doing  so ;  it  was  not  in  his  power  not  to  be 
derided,  but  it  was  in  his  power  not  to  be  ridiculous. 

In  all  this  epistle  it  is  evident  that  St.  Paul  looks  upon 
Titus  as  advanced  to  the  dignity  of  a  prime  ruler  of  the 
church,  and  intrusted  with  a  large  diocese,  containing  many 
particular  churches  under  the  immediate  government  of 
their  respective  elders ;  and  those  deriving  authority  from  his 
ordination,  as  was  specified  in  the  fifth  verse  of  the  first  chap 
ter.  And  now  looking  upon  Titus  under  this  qualification, 


TITUS  ii.  15.]     TJie  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.  91 

he  addresses  a  long  advice  and  instruction  to  him,  for  the 
discharge  of  so  important  a  function,  all  along  the  first  and 
second  chapters ;  but  sums  up  all  in  the  last  verse,  which  is 
the  subject  of  the  ensuing  discourse,  and  contains  in  it  these 
two  things  : 

I.  An  account  of  the  duties  of  his  place  or  office. 

II.  Of  the  means  to  facilitate  and  make  effectual  their  exe 
cution. 

I.  The  duties  of  his  place  were  two.  1.  To  teach.  2.  To 
rule.  Both  comprised  in  these  words  :  These  things  speak 
and  exhort,  and  rebuke  with  all  authority. 

And  then  the  means,  the  only  means  to  make  him  success 
ful,  bright,  and  victorious  in  the  performance  of  these  great 
works,  was  to  be  above  contempt,  to  shine  like  the  Baptist, 
with  a  clear  and  a  triumphant  light.  In  a  word,  it  is  every 
bishop's  duty  to  teach  and  to  govern ;  and  his  way  to  do  it 
is  not  to  be  despised. 

We  will  discourse  of  each  respectively  in  their  order. 

1.  And  first,  for  the  first  branch  of  the  great  work  incum 
bent  upon  a  church  ruler,  which  is  to  teach.  A  work  that 
none  is  too  great  or  too  high  for ;  it  is  a  work  of  charity, 
and  charity  is  the  work  of  heaven,  which  is  always  laying 
itself  out  upon  the  needy  and  the  impotent :  nay,  and  it  is 
a  work  of  the  highest  and  the  noblest  charity ;  for  he  that 
teacheth  another,  gives  an  alms  to  his  soul ;  he  clothes  the 
nakedness  of  his  understanding,  and  relieves  the  wants  of 
his  impoverished  reason :  he  indeed  that  governs  well,  leads 
the  blind ;  but  he  that  teaches,  gives  him  eyes :  and  it  is  a 
glorious  thing  to  have  been  the  repairer  of  a  decayed  intel 
lect,  and  a  sub-worker  to  grace,  in  freeing  it  from  some  of  the 
inconveniences  of  original  sin.  It  is  a  benefaction  that  gives 
a  man  a  kind  of  prerogative ;  for  even  in  the  common  dialect 
of  the  world  every  teacher  is  called  a  master  :  it  is  the  prop 
erty  of  instruction  to  descend,  and  upon  that  very  account, 
it  supposes  him  that  instructs,  the  s-uperior,  or  at  least  makes 
him  so. 

To  say  a  man  is  advanced  too  high  to  condescend  to  teach 
the  ignorant,  is  as  much  as  to  say,  that  the  sun  is  in  too  high 
a  place  to  shine  upon  what  is  below  it.  The  sun  is  said  to 
rule  tJie  day,  and  the  moon  to  rule  tJte  night :  but  do  they  not 


92  The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.        [SEEM.  v. 

..  / 

rule  them  only  by  enlightening-  them  ?  Doctrine  is  that,  that 
must  prepare  men  for  discipline ;  and  men  never  go  on  so 
cheerfully,  as  when  they  see  where  they  go. 

Nor  is  the  dullness  of  the  scholar  to  extinguish,  but  rather 
to  inflame  the  charity  of  the  teacher :  for  since  it  is  not  in 
men  as  vessels,  that  the  smallest  capacity  is  the  soonest 
filled  ;  where  the  labor  is  doubled,  the  value  of  the  work  is 
enhanced ;  for  it  is  a  sowing  where  a  man  never  expects  to 
reap  any  thing  but  the  comfort  and  conscience  of  having 
done  virtuously.  And  yet  we  know  moreover,  that  God  some 
times  converts  even  the  dull  and  the  slow,  turning  very  stones 
into  sons  of  Abraham ;  where  besides  that  the  difficulty  of 
the  conquest  advances  the  trophy  of  the  conqueror,  it  often 
falls  out,  that  the  backward  learner  makes  amends  another 
way,  recompensing  sure  for  sudden,  expiating  his  want  of 
docility  with  a  deeper  and  a  more  rooted  retention :  which 
alone  were  argument  sufficient  to  enforce  the  apostle's  in 
junction  of  being  instant  in  season  and  out  of  season,  even 
upon  the  highest  and  most  exalted  i-der  in  the  church.  He 
that  sits  in  Moses's  chair,  sits  there  to  instruct,  as  well  as  to 
rule :  and  a  general's  office  engages  him  to  lead,  as  well  as  to 
command  his  army.  In  the  first  of  Ecclesiastes,  Solomon 
represents  himself  both  as  preacher  and  king  of  Israel :  and 
every  soul  that  a  bishop  gains  is  a  new  accession  to  the 
extent  of  his  power  ;  he  preaches  his  jurisdiction  wider,  and 
enlarges  his  spiritual  diocese,  as  he  enlarges  men's  apprehen 
sions. 

The  teaching  part  indeed  of  a  Romish  bishop  is  easy 
enough,  whose  grand  business  is  only  to  teach  men  to  be 
ignorant,  to  instruct  them  how  to  know  nothing,  or,  which  is 
all  one,  to  know  upon  trust,  to  believe  implicitly,  and  in  a 
word,  to  see  with  other  men's  eyes,  till  they  come  to  be  lost 
in  their  own  souls.  But  our  religion  is  a  religion  that  dares 
to  be  understood ;  that  offers  itself  to  the  search  of  the  in 
quisitive,  to  the  inspection  of  the  severest  and  the  most 
awakened  reason :  for  being  secure  of  her  substantial  truth 
and  purity,  she  knows,  that  for  her  to  be  seen  and  looked 
into,  is  to  be  embraced  and  admired:  as  there  needs  no 
greater  argument  for  men  to  love  the  light,  than  to  see  it. 
It  needs  no  legends,  no  service  in  an  unknown  tongue,  no  in- 


TITUS  ii.  15.]  ^  The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.  93 

quisition  against  scripture,  no  purging  out  the  heart  and  sense 
of  authors,  no  altering  or  bribing  the  voice  of  antiquity  to 
speak  for  it ;  it  needs  none  of  all  these  laborious  artifices  of 
ignorance ;  none  of  all  these  cloaks  and  coverings.  The 
Romish  faith  indeed  must  be  covered,  or  it  can  not  be  kept 
warm,  and  their  clergy  deal  with  their  religion  as  with  a 
great  crime ;  if  it  is  discovered,  they  are  undone.  But  there 
is  no  bishop  of  the  church  of  England,  but  accounts  it  his 
interest,  as  well  as  his  duty,  to  comply  with  this  precept  of 
the  apostle  Paul  to  Titus,  These  things  teach  and  exhort. 

Now  this  teaching  may  be  effected  two  ways : 
(1.)  Immediately  by  himself. 
(2.)  Mediately  by  others. 

And  first,  immediately  by  himself.  Where  God  gives  a 
talent,  the  episcopal  robe  can  be  no  napkin  to  hide  it  in. 
Change  of  condition  changes  not  the  alilities  of  nature  but 
makes  them  more  illustrious  in  their  exercise;  and  the 
episcopal  dignity  added  to  a  good  preaching  faculty  is  like 
the  erecting  of  a  stately  fountain  upon  a  spring,  which  still, 
for  all  that,  remains  as  much  a  spring  as  it  was  before,  and 
flows  as  plentifully,  only  it  flows  with  the  circumstance  of 
greater  state  and  magnificence.  Height  of  place  is  intended 
only  to  stamp  the  endowments  of  a  private  condition  with 
lustre  and  authority :  and,  thanks  be  to  God,  neither  the 
church's  professed  enemies,  nor  her  pretended  friends,  have 
any  cause  to  asperse  her  in  this  respect,  she  having  over  her 
such  bishops  as  are  able  to  silence  the  factious,  no  less  by 
their  preaching  than  by  their  authority. 

But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  let  me  add  also,  that  this  is 
not  so  absolutely  necessary,  as  to  be  of  the  vital  constitution 
of  this  function.  He  may  teach  his  diocese,  who  ceases  to 
be  able  to  preach  to  it :  for  he  may  do  it  by  appointing  teach 
ers,  and  by  a  vigilant  exacting  from  them  the  care  and  the 
instruction  of  their  respective  flocks.  He  is  the  spiritual 
father  of  his  diocese  ;  and  a  father  may  see  his  children 
taught,  though  he  himself  does  not  turn  schoolmaster.  It  is 
not  the  gift  of  every  person  nor  of  every  age,  to  harangue 
the  multitude,  to  voice  it  high  and  loud,  et  dominari  in  concion- 
ibus.  And  since  experience  fits  for  government,  and  age  usu 
ally  brings  experience,  perhaps  the  most  governing  years  are 
the  least  preaching  years. 


94  The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.        [SERM.  v. 

(2.)  In  the  second  place  therefore,  there  is  a  teaching-  me 
diately,  by  the  subordinate  ministration  of  others ;  in  which, 
since  the  action  of  the  instrumental  agent  is,  upon  all 
grounds  of  reason,  to  be  ascribed  to  the  principal,  he,  who 
ordains  and  furnishes  all  his  churches  with  able  preach 
ers,  is  an  universal  teacher ;  he  instructs  where  he  can  not  be 
present ;  he  speaks  in  every  mouth  of  his  diocese  ;  and  every 
congregation  of  it  every  Sunday  feels  his  influence,  though  it 
hears  not  his  voice.  That  master  deprives  not  his  family  of 
their  food,  who  orders  a  faithful  steward  to  dispense  it. 
Teaching  is  not  a  flow  of  words,  nor  the  draining  of  an  hour 
glass,  but  an  effectual  procuring,  that  a  man  comes  to  know 
something  which  he  knew  not  before,  or  to  know  it  better. 
And  therefore  eloquence  and  ability  of  speech  is  to  a  church 
governor,  as  Tully  said  it  was  to  a  philosopher ;  Si  afferatur, 
non  repudianda ;  si  absit,  non  magnopere  desideranda :  and  to 
find  fault  with  such  an  one  for  not  being  a  popular  speaker, 
is  to  blame  a  painter  for  not  being  a  good  musician. 

To  teach  indeed  must  be  confessed  his  duty,  but  then  there 
is  a  teaching  by  example,  by  authority,  by  restraining  sedu 
cers,  and  so  removing  the  hinderances  of  knowledge.  And  a 
bishop  does  his  church,  his  prince  and  country,  more  service 
by  ruling  other  men's  tongues,  than  he  can  by  employing  his 
own.  And  thus  much  for  the  first  branch  of  the  great  work 
belonging  to  a  pastor  of  the  church,  which  was  to  teach  and  to 
exhort. 

2.  The  second  is  to  rule,  expressed  in  these  words ;  rebuke 
with  all  authority.  By  which  I  doubt  not  but  the  apostle 
principally  intends-  church  censures ;  and  so  the  words  are  a 
metonymy  of  the  part  for  the  whole,  giving  an  instance  in 
ecclesiastical  censures,  instead  of  all  other  ecclesiastical  juris 
diction.  A  jurisdiction,  which  in  the  essentials  of  it  is  as  old 
as  Christianity,  and  even  in  those  circumstantial  additions 
of  secular  encouragement,  with  which  the  piety  and  wisdom 
of  Christian  princes  always  thought  necessary  to  support  it 
against  the  encroachments  of  the  injurious  world,  much  older 
and  more  venerable  than  any  constitution  that  has  divested 
the  church  of  it. 

But  to  speak  directly  to  the  thing  before  us  ;  we  see  here 
the  great  apostle  employing  the  utmost  of  his  authority  in 


TITUS  ii.  15.]     The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.  95 

commanding  Titus  to  use  his :  and  what  he  said  to  him,  he  says 
to  every  Christian  bishop  after  him,  rebulte  with  all  authority. 
This  authority  is  a  spiritual  sword  put  into  the  hands  of  every 
church  ruler ;  and  God  put  not  this  sword  into  his  hands, 
with  an  intent  that  he  should  keep  it  there  for  no  other  pur 
pose,  hut  only  for  fashion  sake,  as  men  used  to  wear  one  by 
their  sides.  Government  is  an  art  above  the  attainment  of 
an  ordinary  genius,  and  requires  a  wider,  a  larger,  and  a 
more  comprehending  soul  than  God  has  put  into  every  body. 
The  spirit  which  animates  and  acts  the  universe,  is  a  spirit 
of  government ;  and  that  ruler  that  is  possessed  of  it,  is  the 
substitute  and  vicegerent  of  Providence,  whether  in  church 
or  state :  every  bishop  is  God's  curate.  Now  the  nature  of 
government  contains  in  it  these  three  parts  : 

(1.)  An  exaction  of  duty  from  the  persons  placed  under  it. 

(2.)  A  protection  of  them  in  the  performance  of  their  duty. 

(3.)  Coercion  and  animadversion  upon  such  as  neglect  it. 
All  which  are,  in  their  proportion,  ingredients  of  that  govern 
ment  which  we  call  ecclesiastical. 

(1.)  And  first,  it  implies  exaction  of  duty  from  the  persons 
placed  under  it :  for  it  is  both  to  be  confessed  and  lamented, 
that  men  are  not  so  ready  to  offer  it,  where  it  is  not  exacted : 
otherwise,  what  means  the  service  of  the  church  so  imper 
fectly  and  by  halves  read  over,  and  that  by  many  who  profess 
a  conformity  to  the  rules  of  the  church  ?  What  makes  them 
mince  and  mangle  that  in  their  practice,  which  they  could 
swallow  whole  in  their  subscriptions  ?  Why  are  the  public 
prayers  curtailed  and  left  out,  prayers  composed  with  sobriety, 
and  enjoined  with  authority,  only  to  make  the  more  room 
for  a  long,  crude,  impertinent,  upstart  harangue  before  the 
sermon  ? 

Such  persons  seem  to  conform  (the  signification  of  which 
word  they  never  make  good)  only  that  they  may  despise  the 
church's  injunctions  under  the  church's  wing,  and  contemn 
authority  within  the  protection  of  the  laws.  Duty  is  but 
another  English  word  for  debt ;  and  God  knows,  that  it  is 
well  if  men  pay  their  debts  when  they  are  called  upon.  But 
if  governors  do  not  remind  men  of,  and  call  them  to  obe 
dience,  they  will  find,  that  it  will  never  come  as  a  free-will 
offering,  no  not  from  many  who  even  serve  at  the  altar. 


96  TJie  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.       [SEEM.  v. 

(2.)  Government  imports  a  protection  and  encouragement 
of  the  persons  under  it,  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty.  It 
is  not  for  a  magistrate  to  frown  upon,  and  browheat  those  who 
are  hearty  and  exact  in  the  management  of  their  ministry ; 
and  with  a  grave  insignificant  nod,  to  call  a  well-regulated 
and  resolved  zeal,  want  of  prudence  and  moderation.  Such 
discouraging  of  men  in  the  ways  of  an  active  conformity  to 
the  church's  rules  is  that,  which  will  crack  the  sinews  of  gov 
ernment  ;  for  it  weakens  the  hands  and  damps  the  spirits  of 
the  obedient.  And  if  only  scorn  and  rebuke  shall  attend  men 
for  asserting  the  church's  dignity,  and  taxing  the  murder  of 
kings,  and  the  like  ;  many  will  choose  rather  to  neglect  their 
duty  safely  and  creditably,  than  to  get  a  broken  pate  in  the 
church's  service,  only  to  be  rewarded  with  that  which  shall 
break  their  hearts  too. 

(3.)  The  third  thing  implied  in  government  is  coercion, 
and  animadversion  upon  such  as  neglect  their  duty  :  without 
which  coercive  power  all  government  is  but  toothless  and  pre 
carious,  and  does  not  so  much  command  as  beg  obedience. 
Nothing,  I  confess,  is  more  becoming  a  Christian,  of  what  de 
gree  soever,  than  meekness,  candor,  and  condescension  ;  but 
they  are  virtues  that  have  their  proper  sphere  and  season  to 
act  and  show  themselves  in,  and  consequently  not  to  inter 
fere  with  others,  different  indeed  in  their  nature,  but  alto 
gether  as  necessary  in  their  use.  And  when  an  insolent 
despiser  of  discipline,  nurtured  into  impudence  and  contempt 
of  all  order  by  a  long  risk  of  license  and  rebellion,  shall  ap 
pear  before  a  church  governor,  severity  and  resolution  are 
that  governor's  virtues,  and  justice  itself  is  his  mercy ;  for 
by  making  such  an  one  an  example,  (as  much  as  in  him  lies,) 
he  will  either  cure  him,  or  at  least  preserve  others. 

Were  indeed  the  consciences  of  men  as  they  should  be,  the 
censures  of  the  church  might  be  a  sufficient  coercion  upon 
them ;  but  being,  as  most  of  them  nowadays  are,  hell  and 
damnation  proof,  her  bare  anathemas  fall  but  like  so  many 
bruta  fulmina  upon  the  obstinate  and  schismatical ;  who  are 
like  to  think  themselves  shrewdly  hurt  (forsooth)  by  being 
cut  off  from  that  body,  which  they  choose  not  to  be  of;  and 
so  being  punished  into  a  quiet  enjoyment  of  their  beloved 
separation.  Some  will  by  no  means  allow  the  church  any 


TITUS  ii.  15.]     The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.  97 

further  power  than  only  to  exhort  and  to  advise ;  and  this 
but  with  a  proviso  too,  that  it  extends  not  to  such  as  think 
themselves  too  wise  and  too  great  to  he  advised ;  according 
to  the  hypothesis  of  which  persons,  the  authority  of  the 
church,  and  the  obliging  force  of  all  church  sanctions,  can 
bespeak  men  only  thus  :  These  and  these  things  it  is  your 
duty  to  do,  and  if  you  will  not  do  them,  you  may  as  well  let 
them  alone.  A  strict  and  efficacious  constitution  indeed, 
which  invests  the  church  with  no  power  at  all,  but  where  men 
will  be  so  very  civil  as  to  obey  it,  and  so  at  the  same  time  pay 
it  a  duty,  and  do  it  a  courtesy  too. 

But  when  in  the  judgment  of  some  men  the  spiritual  func 
tion,  as  such,  must  render  a  churchman,  though  otherwise 
never  so  discreet  and  qualified,  yet  merely  because  he  is  a 
churchman,  unfit  to  be  intrusted  by  his  prince  with  a  share 
of  that  power  and  jurisdiction,  which  in  many  circumstances 
his  prince  has  judged  but  too  necessary  to  secure  the  affairs 
and  dignity  of  the  church ;  and  which  every  thriving  grazier 
can  think  himself  but  ill  dealt  with,  if  within  his  own  country 
he  is  not  mounted  to  :  it  is  a  sign,  that  such  discontented 
persons  intend  not  that  religion  shall  advise  them  upon  any 
other  terms,  than  that  they  may  ride  and  govern  their 
religion. 

But  surely,  all  our  kings  and  our  parliaments  understood 
well  enough  what  they  did,  when  they  thought  fit  to  prop 
and  fortify  the  spiritual  order  with  some  power  that  was  tem 
poral  ;  and  such  is  the  present  state  of  the  world,  in  the 
judgment  of  any  observing  eye,  that  if  the  bishop  has  no 
other  defensatives  but  excommunication,  no  other  power  but 
that  of  the  keys,  he  may,  for  any  notable  effect  that  he  is  like 
to  do  upon  the  factious  and  contumacious,  surrender  up  his 
pastoral  staff,  shut  up  the  church,  and  put  those  keys  under 
the  door. 

And  thus  I  have  endeavored  to  show  the  three  things 
included  in  the  general  nature  of  government;  but  to  pre 
scribe  the  manner  of  it  in  particular  is  neither  in  my  power 
nor  inclination :  only,  I  suppose,  the  common  theory  and 
speculation  of  things  is  free  and  open  to  any  one  whom  God 
has  sent  into  the  world  with  some  ability  to  contemplate,  and 
by  continuing  hjm  in  the  world,  gives  him  also  opportunity. 

VOL.  I.  7 


98  The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.        [SERM.  v. 

In  all  that  has  been  said,  I  do  not  in  the  least  pretend  to 
advise,  or  chalk  out  rules  to  my  superiors ;  for  some  men  can 
not  be  fools  with  so  good  acceptance  as  others.  But  whoso 
ever  is  called  to  speak  upon  a  certain  occasion,  may,  I  con 
ceive,  without  offense,  take  any  text  suitable  to  that  occasion, 
and  having  taken  it,  may,  or  at  least  ought,  to  speak  suitably 
to  that  text. 

II.  I  proceed  now  to  the  second  thing  proposed  from  the 
words,  which  is  the  means  assigned  for  the  discharge  of  the 
duties  mentioned,  and  exhibited  under  this  one  short  prescrip 
tion,  Let  no  man  despise  tliee  :  in  the  handling  of  which  I  shall 
show, 

1.  The  ill  effects  and  destructive  influence  that  contempt 
has  upon  government. 

2.  The  groundless  causes  upon  which  church  rulers  are  fre 
quently  despised. 

3.  And  lastly,  the  just  causes  that  would  render  them,  or 
indeed  any  other  rulers,  worthy  to  be  despised.     All  which 
being  clearly  made  out,  and  impartially  laid  before  our  eyes, 
it  will  be  easy  and  obvious  for  every  one,  by  avoiding  the  evil 
so  marked  out,  to  answer  and  come  up  to  the  apostle's  ex 
hortation.     And, 

1.  We  will  discourse  of  contempt,  and  the  malign  hostile 
influence  it  has  upon  government.  As  for  the  thing  itself, 
every  man's  experience  will  inform  him,  that  there  is  no 
action  in  the  behavior  of  one  man  towards  another,  of  which 
human  nature  is  more  impatient  than  of  contempt,  it  being  a 
thing  made  up  of  these  two  ingredients,  an  undervaluing  of 
a  man  upon  a  belief  of  his  utter  uselessness  and  inability, 
and  a  spiteful  endeavor  to  engage  the  rest  of  the  world  in  the 
same  belief  and  slight  esteem  of  him.  So  that  the  immediate 
design  of  contempt  is  the  shame  of  the  person  contemned ; 
and  shame  is  a  banishment  of  him  from  the  good  opinion  of 
the  world,  which  every  man  most  earnestly  desires,  both  upon 
a  principle  of  nature  and  of  interest.  For  it  is  natural  to  all 
men  to  affect  a  good  name;  and  he  that  despises  a  man, 
libels  him  in  his  thoughts,  reviles  and  traduces  him  in  his 
judgment.  And  there  is  also  interest  in  the  case;  for  a 
desire  to  be  well  thought  of,  directly  resolves  itself  into  that 
owned  and  mighty  principle  of  self-preservation :  forasmuch 


TITUS  ii.  is.]     The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.  99 

as  thoughts  are  the  first  wheels  and  motives  of  action,  and 
there  is  no  long  passage  from  one  to  the  other.  He  that 
thinks  a  man  to  the  ground,  will  quickly  endeavor  to  lay 
him  there ;  for  while  he  despises  him,  he  arraigns  and  con 
demns  him  in  his  heart ;  and  the  after-bitterness  and  cruel 
ties  of  his  practices  are  but  the  executioners  of  the  sentence 
passed  before  upon  him  by  his  judgment.  Centempt,  like  the 
planet  Saturn,  has  first  an  ill  aspect,  and  then  a  destroying 
influence. 

By  all  which,  I  suppose,  it  is  sufficiently  proved  how  nox 
ious  it  must  needs  be  to  every  governor :  for,  can  a  man  re 
spect  the  person  whom  he  despises  ?  and  can  there  be  obedi 
ence,  where  there  is  not  so  much  as  respect  ?  Will  the  knee 
bend,  while  the  heart  insults  ?  and  the  actions  submit,  while 
the  apprehensions  rebel  ?  And  therefore  the  most  experi 
enced  disturbers  and  underminers  of  government  have  always 
laid  their  first  train  in  contempt,  endeavoring  to  blow  it  up 
in  the  judgment  and  esteem  of  the  subject.  And  was  not 
this  method  observed  in  the  late  most  flourishing  and  success 
ful  rebellion?  For,  how  studiously  did  they  lay  about  them, 
both  from  the  pulpit  and  the  press,  to  cast  a  slur  upon  the 
king's  person,  and  to  bring  his  governing  abilities  under  a 
disrepute  ?  And  then  after  they  had  sufficiently  blasted  him 
in  his  personal  capacity,  they  found  it  easy  work  to  dash  and 
overthrow  him  in  his  political. 

Reputation  is  power,  and  consequently  to  despise  is  to 
weaken.  For  where  there  is  contempt,  there  can  be  no  awe  ; 
and  where  there  is  no  awe,  there  will  be  no  subjection ;  and 
if  there  is  no  subjection,  it  is  impossible,  without  the  help  of 
the  former  distinction  of  a  politic  capacity,  to  imagine  how  a 
prince  can  be  a  governor.  He  that  makes  his  prince  despised 
and  undervalued,  blows  a  trumpet  against  him  in  men's 
breasts,  beats  him  out  of  his  subjects'  hearts,  and  fights  him 
out  of  their  affections ;  and  after  this,  he  may  easily  strip  him 
of  his  other  garrisons,  having  already  dispossessed  him  of  his 
strongest,  by  dismantling  him  of  his  honor,  and  seizing  his 
reputation. 

Nor  is  what  has  been  said  of  princes  less  true  of  all  other 
governors,  from  highest  to  lowest,  from  him  that  heads  an 
army,  to  him  that  is  master  of  a  family,  or  of  one  single 


100  Tlie  Duties  of  tlie  Episcopal  Functions.        [SERM.  v. 

servant ;  the  formal  reason  of  a  thing  equally  extending  itself 
to  every  particular  of  the  same  kind.  It  is  a  proposition  of 
eternal  verity,  that  none  can  govern  while  he  is  despised. 
We  may  as  well  imagine  that  there  may  be  a  king  without 
majesty,  a  supreme  without  sovereignty.  It  is  a  paradox, 
and  a  direct  contradiction  in  practice ;  for  where  contempt 
takes  place,  the  very  causes  and  capacities  of  government 
cease. 

Men  are  so  far  from  being  governed  by  a  despised  person, 
that  they  will  not  so  much  as  be  taught  by  him.  Truth 
itself  shall  lose  its  credit,  if  delivered  by  a  person  that  has 
none.  As  on  the  contrary,  be  but  a  person  in  vogue  and 
credit  with  the  multitude,  he  shall  be  able  to  commend  and 
set  oif  whatsoever  he  says,  to  authorize  any  nonsense,  and  to 
make  popular,  rambling,  incoherent  stuff  (seasoned  with 
twang  and  tautology)  pass  for  high  rhetoric  and  moving 
preaching ;  such  indeed  as  a  zealous  tradesman  would  even 
live  and  die  under.  And  now,  I  suppose,  it  is  no  ill  topic  of 
argumentation,  to  show  the  prevalence  of  contempt,  by  the 
contrary  influences  of  respect;  which  thus  (as  it  were)  dubs 
every  little,  petit,  admired  person,  lord  and  commander  of  all 
his  admirers.  And  certain  it  is,  that  the  ecclesiastical,  as 
well  as  the  civil  governor,  has  cause  to  pursue  the  same 
methods  of  securing  and  confirming  himself;  the  grounds 
and  means  of  government  being  founded  upon  the  same  bot 
tom  of  nature  in  both,  though  the  circumstances  and  relative 
considerations  of  the  persons  may  differ.  And  I  have  noth 
ing  to  say  more  upon  this  head,  but  that  if  churchmen  are 
called  upon  to  discharge  the  parts  of  governors,  they  may 
with  the  highest  reason  expect  those  supports  and  helps  that 
are  indispensably  requisite  thereunto  ;  and  that  those  men 
are  but  trepanned,  who  are  called  to  govern,  being  invested 
with  authority,  but  bereaved  of  power ;  which,  according  to  a 
true  and  plain  estimate  of  things,  is  nothing  else  but  to  mock 
and  betray  them  into  a  splendid  and  magisterial  way  of  being 
ridiculous.  And  thus  much  for  the  ill  effects  and  destructive 
influence  that  contempt  has  upon  government. 

2.  I  pass  now  to  the  second  thing,  which  is  to  show  the 
groundless  causes,  upon  which  church  rulers  are  frequently 
despised. 


TITUS  ii.  15.]     The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.  101 

Concerning  which,  I  shall  premise  this :  that  nothing  can 
be  a  reasonable  ground  of  despising  a  man,  but  some  fault 
or  other  chargeable  upon  him ;  and  nothing  can  be  a  fault 
that  is  not  naturally  in  a  man's  power  to  prevent ;  otherwise, 
it  is  a  man's  unhappiness,  his  mischance,  or  calamity,  but  not 
his  fault.  Nothing  can  justly  be  despised,  that  can  not 
justly  be  blamed  :  and  it  is  a  most  certain  rule  in  reason  and 
moral  philosophy,  that  where  there  is  no  choice,  there  can  be 
no  blame. 

This  premised,  we  may  take  notice  of  two  usual  grounds 
of  the  contempt  men  cast  upon  the  clergy,  and  yet  for  which 
no  man  ought  to  think  himself  at  all  the  more  worthy  to  be 
contemned. 

(1.)  The  first  is  their  very  profession  itself;  concerning 
which  it  is  a  sad,  but  an  experimented  truth,  that  the  names 
derived  from  it,  in  the  refined  language  of  the  present  age, 
are  made  but  the  appellatives  of  scorn.  This  is  not  charged 
universally  upon  all,  but  experience  wrill  affirm,  or  rather 
proclaim  it  of  much  the  greater  part  of  the  world ;  and  men 
must  persuade  us  that  we  have  lost  our  hearing  and  our 
common  sense,  before  we  can  believe  the  contrary.  But 
surely,  the  bottom  and  foundation  of  this  behavior  towards 
persons  set  apart  for  the  service  of  God,  that  this  very  rela 
tion  should  entitle  them  to  such  a  peculiar  scorn,  can  be 
nothing  else  but  atheism,  the  growing  rampant  sin  of  the 
times. 

For  call  a  man  oppressor,  griping,  covetous,  or  overreach 
ing  person,  and  the  word  indeed,  being  ill  befriended  by 
custom,  perhaps  sounds  not  well,  but  generally,  in  the  ap 
prehension  of  the  hearer,  it  signifies  no  more  than  that  such 
an  one  is  a  wise  and  a  thriving,  or,  in  the  common  phrase,  a 
notable  man ;  which  will  certainly  procure  him  a  respect : 
and  say  of  another,  that  he  is  an  epicure,  a  loose,  or  a  vicious 
man,  and  it  leaves  in  men  no  other  opinion  of  him  than 
that  he  is  a  merry,  pleasant,  and  a  genteel  person,  and  that 
he  that  taxes  him  is  but  a  pedant,  an  unexperienced  and  a 
morose  fellow ;  one  that  does  not  know  men,  nor  understand 
what  it  is  to  eat  and  drink  well :  but  call  a  man  priest  or 
parson,  and  you  set  him,  in  some  men's  esteem,  ten  degrees 
below  his  own  servant. 


102  The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.       [SERM.  v. 

But  let  us  not  be  discouraged  or  displeased,  either  with 
ourselves  or  our  profession,  upon  this  account.  Let  the  vir 
tuosos  mock,  insult,  and  despise  on :  yet  after  all,  they  shall 
never  be  able  to  droll  away  the  nature  of  things  5  to  trample 
a  pearl  into  a  pebble,  nor  to  make  sacred  things  contemptible, 
any  more  than  themselves,  by  such  speeches,  honorable. 

(2.)  Another  groundless  cause  of  some  men's  despising  the 
governors  of  our  church  is  their  loss  of  that  former  grandeur 
and  privilege  that  they  enjoyed.  But  it  is  no  real  disgrace 
to  the  church  merely  to  lose  her  privileges,  but  to  forfeit 
them  by  her  fault  or  misdemeanor,  of  which  she  is  not  con 
scious.  Whatsoever  she  enjoyed  in  this  kind,  she  readily 
acknowledges  to  have  streamed  from  the  royal  munificence, 
and  the  favors  of  the  civil  power  shining  upon  the  spiritual ; 
which  favors  the  same  power  may  retract  and  gather  back 
into  itself,  when  it  pleases.  And  we  envy  not  the  greatness 
and  lustre  of  the  Komish  clergy ;  neither  their  scarlet  gowns 
nor  their  scarlet  sins.  If  our  church  can  not  be  great; 
which  is  better,  she  can  be  humble,  and  content  to  be  re 
formed  into  as  low  a  condition  as  men  for  their  own  private 
advantage  would  have  her ;  who  wisely  tell  her,  that  it  is  best 
and  safest  for  her  to  be  without  any  power  or  temporal  ad 
vantage  ;  like  the  good  physician,  who  out  of  tenderness  to 
his  patient,  lest  he  should  hurt  himself  by  drinking,  was  so 
kind  as  to  rob  him  of  his  silver  cup.  The  church  of  England 
glories  in  nothing  more,  than  that  she  is  the  truest  friend  to 
kings  and  to  kingly  government  of  any  other  church  in  the 
world ;  that  they  were  the  same  hands  and  principles  that 
took  the  crown  from  the  king's  head,  and  the  mitre  from  the 
bishops.  It  is  indeed  the  happiness  of  some  professions  and 
callings,  that  they  can  equally  square  themselves  to,  and 
thrive  under  all  revolutions  of  government :  but  the  clergy 
of  England  neither  know  nor  affect  that  happiness,  and  are 
willing  to  be  despised  for  not  doing  so.  And  so  far  is 
our  church  from  encroaching  upon  the  civil  power,  as  some, 
who  are  back-friends  to  both,  would  maliciously  insinuate, 
that,  were  it  stripped  of  the  very  remainder  of  its  privileges, 
and  made  as  like  the  primitive  church  for  its  bareness,  as  it 
is  already  for  its  purity,  it  could  cheerfully,  and,  what  is 
more,  loyally,  want  all  such  privileges ;  and  in  the  want  of 


TITUS  ii.  15.]    The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.  103 

them  pray  heartily  that  the  civil  power  may  flourish  as  much, 
aud  stand  as  secure  from  the  assaults  of  fanatic,  antimonar- 
chical  principles,  (grown  to  such  a  dreadful  height  during  the 
church's  late  confusions,)  as  it  stood  while  the  church  enjoyed 
those  privileges.  And  thus  much  for  the  two  groundless 
causes  upon  which  church  rulers  are  frequently  despised. 
I  descend  now  to  the 

3.  And  last  thing,  which  is  to  show  those  just  causes,  that 
would  render  them,  or  indeed  any  other  rulers,  worthy  to  be 
despised.  Many  might  be  assigned,  but  I  shall  pitch  only 
upon  four ;  in  discoursing  of  which,  rather  the  time  than  the 
subject  will  force  me  to  be  very  brief. 

(1.)  And  the  first  is  ignorance.  We  know  how  great  an 
absurdity  our  Saviour  accounted  it,  for  the  blind  to  lead  the 
blind  ;  and  to  put  him  that  can  not  so  much  as  see,  to  dis 
charge  the  office  of  a  watch.  Nothing  more  exposes  to  con 
tempt  than  ignorance.  When  Samson's  eyes  were  out,  of  a 
public  magistrate  he  was  made  a  public  sport.  And  when 
Eli  was  blind,  we  know  how  well  he  governed  his  sons,  and 
how  well  they  governed  the  church  under  him.  But  now  the 
blindness  of  the  understanding  is  greater  and  more  scandal 
ous  ;  especially  in  such  a  seeing  age  as  ours ;  in  which  the 
very  knowledge  of  former  times  passes  but  for  ignorance  in 
a  better  dress  :  an  age  that  flies  at  all  learning,  and  inquires 
into  every  thing,  but  especially  into  faults  and  defects.  Ig 
norance  indeed,  so  far  as  it  may  be  resolved  into  natural  in 
ability,  is,  as  to  men,  at  least,  inculpable ;  and  consequently, 
not  the  object  of  scorn,  but  pity ;  but  in  a  governor,  it  can 
not  be  without  the  conjunction  of  the  highest  impudence : 
for  who  bid  such  an  one  aspire  to  teach  and  to  govern  P  A 
blind  man  sitting  in  the  chimney-corner  is  pardonable  enough, 
but  sitting  at  the  helm  he  is  intolerable.  If  men  will  be  ig 
norant  and  illiterate,  let  them  be  so  in  private,  and  to  them 
selves,  and  not  set  their  defects  in  an  high  place,  to  make 
them  visible  and  conspicuous.  If  owls  will  not  be  hooted  at, 
let  them  keep  close  within  the  tree,  and  not  perch  upon  the 
upper  boughs. 

(2.)  A  second  thing  that  makes  a  governor  justly  despised, 
is  viciousness  and  ill  morals.  Virtue  is  that  which  must  tip 
the  preacher's  tongue  and  the  ruler's  sceptre  with  authority. 


104  The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.        [SERM.  v. 

And  therefore  with  what  a  controlling  overpowering  force 
did  our  Saviour  tax  the  sins  of  the  Jews,  when  he  ushered  in 
his  rehukes  of  them  with  that  high  assertion  of  himself,  Who 
is  there  amongst  you,  that  convinces  me  of  sin  ?  Otherwise  W7e 
may  easily  guess  with  what  impatience  the  world  would  have 
heard  an  incestuous  Herod  discoursing  of  chastity,  a  Judas 
condemning  covetousness,  or  a  Pharisee  preaching  against 
hypocrisy :  every  word  must  have  recoiled  upon  the  speaker. 
Guilt  is  that  which  quells  the  courage  of  the  bold,  ties  the 
tongue  of  the  eloquent,  and  makes  greatness  itself  sneak  and 
lurk,  and  behave  itself  poorly.  For,  let  a  vicious  person  be 
in  never  so  high  command,  yet  still  he  will  be  looked  upon 
but  as  one  great  vice,  empowered  to  correct  and  chastise 
others.  A  corrupt  governor  is  nothing  else  but  a  reigning 
sin  :  and  a  sin  in  office  may  command  any  thing  but  respect. 
No  man  can  be  credited  by  his  place  or  power,  who  by  his 
virtue  does  not  first  credit  that. 

(3.)  A  third  thing  that  makes  a  governor  justly  despised, 
is  fearfulness  of,  and  mean  compliances  with  bold,  popular 
offenders.  Some  indeed  account  it  the  very  spirit  of  policy 
and  prudence,  where  men  refuse  to  come  up  to  a  law,  to  make 
the  law  come  down  to  them.  And  for  their  so  doing,  have 
this  infallible  recompense,  that  they  are  not  at  all  the  more 
loved,  but  much  the  less  feared ;  and,  which  is  a  sure  conse 
quent  of  it,  accordingly  respected.  But  believe  it,  it  is  a 
resolute,  tenacious  adherence  to  well  chosen  principles  that 
adds  glory  to  greatness,  and  makes  the  face  of  a  governor 
shine  in  the  eyes  of  those  that  see  and  examine  his  actions. 
Disobedience,  if  complied  with,  is  infinitely  encroaching,  and 
having  gained  one  degree  of  liberty  upon  indulgence,  will 
demand  another  upon  claim.  Every  vice  interprets  a  con 
nivance  and  approbation. 

Which  being  so,  is  it  not  an  enormous  indecency,  as  well 
as  a  gross  impiety,  that  any  one  who  owns  the  name  of  a 
divine,  hearing  a  great  sinner  brave  it  against  Heaven,  talk 
atheistically,  and  scoff  profanely  at  that  religion  by  which  he 
owns  an  expectation  to  be  saved,  if  he  cares  to  be  saved  at 
all,  should,  instead  of  vindicating  the  truth  to  the  blasphemer's 
teeth,  think  it  discretion  and  moderation  (forsooth)  with  a 
complying  silence,  and  perhaps  a  smile  to  boot,  tacitly  to 


TITUS  ii.  15.]     The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.  1C5 

approve,  and  strike  in  with  the  scoffer,  and  so  go  sharer  both 
in  the  mirth  and  guilt  of  his  profane  jests  ? 

But  let  such  an  one  be  assured,  that  even  that  blasphemer 
himself  would  inwardly  reverence  him,  if  rebuked  by  him ; 
as,  on  the  contrary,  he  in  his  heart  really  despises  him  for 
his  cowardly,  base  silence.  If  any  one  should  reply  here, 
that  the  times  and  manners  of  men  will  not  bear  such  a  prac 
tice,  I  confess  that  it  is  an  answer,  from  the  mouth  of  a  pro 
fessed  time-server,  very  rational :  but  as  for  that  man  that  is 
not  so,  let  him  satisfy  himself  of  the  reason,  justice,  and  duty 
of  an  action,  and  leave  the  event  of  it  to  God,  who  will  never 
fail  those  who  do  not  think  themselves  too  wise  to  trust  him. 
For,  let  the  worst  come  to  the  worst,  a  man  in  so  doing  would 
be  ruined  more  honorably  than  otherwise  preferred. 

(4.)  And  lastly.  A  fourth  thing  that  makes  a  governor 
justly  despised,  is  a  proneness  to  despise  others.  There  is 
a  kind  of  respect  due  to  the  meanest  person,  even  from  the 
greatest ;  for  it  is  the  mere  favor  of  Providence,  that  he,  who 
is  actually  the  greatest,  was  not  the  meanest.  A  man  can 
not  cast  his  respects  so  low,  but  they  will  rebound  and  return 
upon  him.  What  Heaven  bestows  upon  the  earth  in  kind  in 
fluences  and  benign  aspects,  is  paid  it  back  again  in  sacrifice, 
incense,  and  adoration.  And  surely,  a  great  person  gets 
more  by  obliging  his  inferior,  than  he  can  by  disdaining  him ; 
as  a  man  has  a  greater  advantage  by  sowing  and  dressing  his 
ground,  than  he  can  have  by  trampling  upon  it.  It  is  not  to 
insult  and  domineer,  to  look  disdainfully,  and  revile  impe 
riously,  that  procures  an  esteem  from  any  one  ;  it  will  indeed 
make  men  keep  their  distance  sufficiently,  but  it  will  be  dis 
tance  without  reverence. 

And  thus  I  have  shown  four  several  causes  that  may  justly 
render  any  ruler  despised ;  and  by  the  same  work,  I  hope, 
have  made  it  evident,  how  little  cause  men  have  to  despise 
the  rulers  of  our  church. 

God  is  the  fountain  of  honor ;  and  the  conduit  by  which 
he  conveys  it  to  the  sons  of  men,  are  virtuous  and  generous 
practices.  But  as  for  us,  who  have  more  immediately  and 
nearly  devoted  both  our  persons  and  concerns  to  his  service, 
it  were  infinitely  vain  to  expect  it  upon  any  other  terms. 
Some  indeed  may  please  and  promise  themselves  high  mat- 


106  The  Duties  of  the  Episcopal  Functions.       [SEKM.  v. 

ters,  from  full  revenues,  stately  palaces,  court-interests,  and 
great  dependences :  but  that  which  makes  the  clergy  glorious, 
is  to  be  knowing  in  their  profession,  unspotted  in  their  lives, 
active  and  laborious  in  their  charges,  bold  and  resolute  in  op 
posing  seducers,  and  daring  to  look  vice  in  the  face,  though 
never  so  potent  and  illustrious ;  and  lastly,  to  be  gentle, 
courteous,  and  compassionate  to  all. 

These  are  our  robes  and  our  maces,  our  escutcheons,  and 
highest  titles  of  honor :  for  by  all  these  things  God  is  hon 
ored,  who  has  declared  this  the  eternal  rule  and  standard  of 
all  honor  derivable  upon  men,  that  those  who  honor  him,  shall 
he  honored  by  him. 

To  which  God,  fearful  in  praises,  and  working  wonders,  be 
rendered  and  ascribed  as  is  most  due,  all  praise,  might, 
majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for  evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  VI. 


JOHN  vii.  17.  — If  any  man  will  do  his  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it 
be  of  God,  or  whether  I  speak  of  myself. 

WHEN  God  was  pleased  to  new-model  the  world  by  the 
introduction  of  a  new  religion,  and  that  in  the  room 
of  one  set  up  by  himself,  it  was  requisite  that  he  should  rec 
ommend  it  to  the  reasons  of  men  with  the  same  authority 
and  evidence  that  enforced  the  former ;  and  that  a  religion 
established  by  God  himself  should  not  be  displaced  by  any 
thing  under  a  demonstration  of  that  divine  power  that  first 
introduced  it.  And  the  whole  Jewish  economy,  we  know, 
was  brought  in  with  miracles ;  the  law  was  writ  and  con 
firmed  by  the  same  almighty  hand  :  the  whole  universe  was 
subservient  to  its  promulgation :  the  signs  of  Egypt  and  the 
Ked  Sea ;  fire  and  a  voice  from  heaven ;  the  heights  of  the 
one,  and  the  depths  of  the  other ;  so  that,  as  it  were,  from 
the  top  to  the  bottom  of  nature  there  issued  forth  one  uni 
versal  united  testimony  of  the  divinity  of  the  Mosaic  law  and 
religion.  And  this  stood  in  the  world  for  the  space  of  two 
thousand  years ;  till  at  length,  in  the  fullness  of  time,  the 
reason  of  men  ripening  to  such  a  pitch  as  to  be  above  the 
pedagogy  of  Moses's  rod,  and  the  discipline  of  types,  God 
thought  fit  to  display  the  substance  without  the  shadow,  and 
to  read  the  world  a  lecture  of  an  higher  and  more  sublime 
religion  in  Christianity.  But  the  Jewish  was  yet  in  posses 
sion,  and  therefore  that  this  might  so  enter  as  not  to  intrude, 
it  was  to  bring  its  warrant  from  the  same  hand  of  omnipo 
tence.  And  for  this  cause,  Christ,  that  he  might  not  make 
either  a  suspected  or  precarious  address  to  men's  understand 
ings,  outdoes  Moses  before  he  displaces  him ;  shows  an  as 
cendant  spirit  above  him,  raises  the  dead,  and  cures  more 
plagues  than  he  brought  upon  Egypt,  casts  out  devils,  and 


108  Why  Christ's  Doctrine  [SERM.VI. 

heals  the  deaf,  speaking1  such  words,  as  even  gave  ears  to 
hear  them ;  cures  the  Mind  and  the  lame,  and  makes  the  very 
dumb  to  speak  for  the  truth  of  his  doctrine.  But  what  was 
the  result  of  all  this  ?  Why,  some  look  upon  him  as  an  im 
postor  and  a  conjurer,  as  an  agent  for  Beelzebub,  and  there 
fore  reject  his  gospel,  hold  fast  their  law,  and  will  not  let 
Moses  give  place  to  the  magician. 

Now  the  cause  that  Christ's  doctrine  was  rejected  must  of 
necessity  be  one  of  these  two.  1.  An  insufficiency  in  the  ar 
guments  brought  by  Christ  to  enforce  it.  Or,  2.  An  indis 
position  in  the  persons,  to  whom  this  doctrine  was  addressed, 
to  receive  it. 

And  for  this,  Christ,  who  had  not  only  an  infinite  power  to 
work  miracles,  but  also  an  equal  wisdom  both  to  know  the 
just  force  and  measure  of  every  argument  or  motive  to 
persuade  or  cause  assent;  and  withal,  to  look  through  and 
through  all  the  dark  corners  of  the  soul  of  man,  all  the 
windings  and  turnings,  and  various  workings  of  his  faculties ; 
and  to  discern  how  and  by  what  means  they  are  to  be 
wrought  upon ;  and  what  prevails  upon  them,  and  what  does 
not :  he,  I  say,  stakes  the  whole  matter  upon  this  issue ;  that 
the  arguments  by  which  his  doctrine  addressed  itself  to  the 
minds  of  men,  were  proper,  adequate,  and  sufficient  to  com 
pass  their  respective  ends  in  persuading  or  convincing  the 
persons  to  whom  they  were  proposed :  and,  moreover,  that 
there  was  no  such  defect  in  the  natural  light  of  man's  under 
standing,  or  knowing  faculty ;  but  that,  considered  in  itself, 
it  would  be  apt  enough  to  close  with,  and  yield  its  assent  to, 
the  evidence  of  those  arguments  duly  offered  to  and  laid 
before  it.  And  yet,  that,  after  all  this,  the  event  proved 
otherwise;  and  that,  notwithstanding  both  the  weight  and 
fitness  of  the  arguments  to  persuade,  and  the  light  of  man's 
intellect  to  meet  this  persuasive  evidence  with  a  suitable 
assent,  no  assent  followed,  nor  were  men  thereby  actually 
persuaded;  he  charges  it  wholly  upon  the  corruption,  the 
perverseness,  and  viciosity  of  man's  will,  as  the  only  cause 
that  rendered  all  the  arguments,  his  doctrine  came  clothed 
with,  unsuccessful.  And  consequently  he  affirms  here  in  the 
text,  that  men  must  love  the  truth  before  they  throughly  be 
lieve  it ;  and  that  the  gospel  has  then  only  a  free  admission 


JOHN  vii.  17.]  was  rejected  by  the  Jews.  109 

into  the  assent  of  the  understanding,  when  it  brings  a  pass 
port  from  a  rightly  disposed  will,  as  being  the  great  faculty 
of  dominion,  that  commands  all,  that  shuts  out  and  lets  in 
what  objects  it  pleases,  and,  in  a  word,  keeps  the  keys  of  the 
whole  soul. 

This  is  the  design  and  purport  of  the  words,  which  I  shall 
draw  forth  and  handle  in  the  prosecution  of  these  four  follow 
ing-  heads  : 

I.  I  shall  show,  what  the  doctrine  of  Christ  was  that  the 
world  so  much  stuck  at  and  was  so  averse  from  believing. 

II.  I  shall  show,  that  men's  unbelief  of  it  was  from  no 
defect  or  insufficiency  in  the  arguments  brought  by  Christ  to 
enforce  it. 

III.  I  shall  show,  what  was  the  true  and  proper  cause  into 
which  this  unbelief  was  resolved* 

IV.  And,  lastly,  I  shall  show,  that  a  pious  and  well  disposed 
mind,  attended  with  a  readiness  to  obey  the  known  will  of 
God,  is  the  surest  and  best  means  to  enlighten  the  under 
standing  to  a  belief  of  Christianity. 

Of  these  in  their  order  ;  and, 

First,  for  the  doctrine  of  Christ.  We  must  take  it  in  the 
known  and  common  division  of  it,  into  matters  of  belief,  and 
matters  of  practice. 

The  matters  of  belief  related  chiefly  to  his  person  and 
offices.  As,  That  he  was  the  Messias  that  should  come  into 
the  world :  the  eternal  son  of  God,  begotten  of  him  before 
all  worlds  :  that  in  time  he  was  made  man,  and  born  of  a 
pure  virgin :  that  he  should  die  and  satisfy  for  the  sins  of 
the  world ;  and  that  he  should  rise  again  from  the  dead,  and 
ascend  into  heaven ;  and  there  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of 
God,  hold  the  government  of  the  whole  world,  till  the  great 
and  last  day ;  in  which  he  should  judge  both  the  quick  and 
the  dead,  raised  to  life  again  with  the  very  same  bodies ;  and 
then  deliver  up  all  rule  and  government  into  the  hands  of  his 
Father.  These  were  the  great  articles  and  credenda  of  Chris 
tianity  that  so  much  startled  the  world,  and  seemed  to  be 
such  as  not  only  brought  in  a  new  religion  amongst  men,  but 
also  required  new  reason  to  embrace  it. 

The  other  part  of  his  doctrine  lay  in  matters  of  practice ; 
which  we  find  contained  in  his  several  sermons,  but  prin- 


110  Why  Christ's  Doctrine  [SERM.VI. 

cipally  in  that  glorious,  full,  and  admirable  discourse  upon 
the  mount,  recorded  in  the  5th,  6th,  and  7th  chapters  of  St. 
Matthew.  All  which  particulars  if  we  would  reduce  to  one 
general  comprehensive  head,  they  are  all  wrapt  up  in  the 
doctrine  of  self-denial,^  prescribing  to  the  world  the  most 
inward  purity  of  heart,  and  a  constant  conflict  with  all  our 
sensual  appetites  and  worldly  interests,  even  to  the  quitting 
of  all  that  is  dear  to  us,  and  the  sacrificing  of  life  itself, 
rather  than  knowingly  to  omit  the  least  duty,  or  commit 
the  least  sin.  And  this  was  that  wThich  grated  harder  upon, 
and  raised  greater  tumults  and  boilings  in  the  hearts  of 
men,  than  the  strangeness  and  seeming  unreasonableness  of 
all  the  former  articles,  that  took  up  chiefly  in  speculation  and 
belief. 

And  that  this  was  so,  will  appear  from  a  consideration  of 
the  state  and  condition  the  world  was  in,  as  to  religion,  when 
Christ  promulged  his  doctrine.  Nothing  further  than  the 
outward  action  was  then  looked  after,  and  when  that  failed, 
there  was  an  expiation  ready  in  the  opus  opemtum  of  a  sacri 
fice.  So  that  all  their  virtue  and  religion  lay  in  their  folds 
and  their  stalls,  and  what  was  wanting  in  the  innocence,  the 
blood  of  lambs  was  to  supply.  The  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  who 
were  the  great  doctors  of  the  Jewish  church,  expounded  the 
law  no  further.  They  accounted  no  man  a  murderer,  but  he 
that  struck  a  knife  into  his  brother's  heart :  no  man  an  adul 
terer,  but  he  that  actually  defiled  his  neighbor's  bed.  They 
thought  it  no  injustice  nor  irreligion  to  prosecute  the  severest 
retaliation  or  revenge ;  so  that  at  the  same  time  their  out 
ward  man  might  be  a  saint,  and  their  inward  man  a  devil. 
No  care  at  all  was  had  to  curb  the  unruliness  of  anger,  or 
the  exorbitance  of  desire.  Amongst  all  their  sacrifices,  they 
never  sacrificed  so  much  as  one  lust.  Bulls  and  goats  bled 
apace,  but  neither  the  violence  of  the  one,  nor  the  wantonness 
of  the  other,  ever  died  a  victim  at  any  of  their  altars.  So 
that  no  wonder,  that  a  doctrine  that  arraigned  the  irregular 
ities  of  the  most  inward  motions  and  affections  of  the  soul, 
and  told  men  that  anger  and  harsh  words  were  murder,  and 
looks  and  desires,  adultery ;  that  a  man  might  stab  with  his 
tongue,  and  assassinate  with  his  mind,  pollute  himself  with  a 
*  See  Sermon  on  Matth.  x.  33,  ante,  p.  42. 


ii.  17.]  was  rejected  by  the  Jews.  Ill 

glance,  and  forfeit  eternity  by  a  cast  of  his  eye  :  no  wonder,  I 
say,  that  such  a  doctrine  made  a  strange  bustle  and  disturb 
ance  in  the  world,  which  then  sat  warm  and  easy  in  a  free 
enjoyment  of  their  lusts ;  ordering  matters  so,  that  they  put 
a  trick  upon  the  great  rule  of  virtue,  the  law,  and  made  a 
shift  to  think  themselves  guiltless,  in  spite  of  all  their  sins ; 
to  break  the  precept,  and  at  the  same  time  to  baffle  the  curse ; 
contriving  to  themselves  such  a  sort  of  holiness  as  should 
please  God  and  themselves  too,  justify  and  save  them  harm 
less,  but  never  sanctify  nor  make  them  better. 

But  the  severe  notions  of  Christianity  turned  all  this  up 
side  down,  filling  all  with  surprise  and  amazement :  they  came 
upon  the  world,  like  light  darting  full  upon  the  face  of  a 
man  asleep,  who  had  a  mind  to  sleep  on,  and  not  to  be  dis 
turbed  :  they  were  terrible  astonishing  alarms  to  persons 
grown  fat  and  wealthy  by  a  long  and  successful  imposture ; 
by  suppressing  the  true  sense  of  the  law,  by  putting  another 
veil  upon  Moses ;  and,  in  a  word,  persuading  the  world,  that 
men  might  be  honest  and  religious,  happy  and  blessed,  though 
they  never  denied  nor  mortified  one  of  their  corrupt  appetites. 

And  thus  much  for  the  first  thing  proposed;  which  was 
to  give  you  a  brief  draught  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  that 
met  with  so  little  assent  from  the  world  in  general,  and  from 
the  Jews  in  particular.  I  come  now  to  the 

Second  thing  proposed:  which  was  to  show,  That  men's 
unbelief  of  Christ's  doctrine  was  from  no  defect  or  insuffi 
ciency  in  the  arguments  brought  by  Christ  to  enforce  it. 
This  I  shall  make  appear  two  ways  : 

1.  By  showing,  that  the   arguments   spoken   of  were   in 
themselves  convincing  and  sufficient. 

2.  By  showing,  that  upon  supposition  they  were  not  so,  yet 
their  insufficiency  was  not  the  cause  of  their  rejection. 

And,  first,  for  the  first  of  these  :  That  the  arguments  brought 
by  Christ  for  the  confirmation  of  his  doctrine  were  in  them 
selves  convincing  and  sufficient.  I  shall  insist  only  upon  the 
convincing  power  of  the  two  principal.  One  from  the  proph 
ecies  recorded  concerning  him ;  the  other  from  the  mira 
cles  done  by  him.  Of  both  very  briefly.  And  for  the  for 
mer.  There  was  a  full  entire  harmony  and  consent  of  all  the 
divine  predictions  receiving  their  completion  in  Christ.  The 


112  Why  Christ's  Doctrine  [SERM.  vi. 

strength  of  which  argument  lies  in  this,  that  it  evinces  the 
divine  mission  of  Christ's  person,  and  thereby  proves  him  to 
he  the  Messias ;  which  by  consequence  proves  and  asserts  the 
truth  of  his  doctrine.  For  he  that  was  so  sent  by  God,  could 
declare  nothing  but  the  will  of  God.  And  so  evidently  do  all 
the  prophecies  agree  to  Christ,  that  I  dare  with  great  confi 
dence  affirm,  that  if  the  prophecies  recorded  of  the  Messiah 
are  not  fulfilled  in  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  it  is  impossible  to  know 
or  distinguish  when  a  prophecy  is  fulfilled  and  when  not,  in 
any  thing  or  person  whatsoever ;  which  would  utterly  evac 
uate  the  use  of  them.  But  in  Christ  they  all  meet  with  such 
an  invincible  lustre  and  evidence,  as  if  they  were  not  pre 
dictions,  but  after-relations ;  and  the  penmen  of  them  not 
prophets,  but  evangelists.  And  now,  can  any  kind  of  ratio 
cination  allow  Christ  all  the  marks  of  the  Messiah,  and  yet 
deny  him  to  be  the  Messiah  ?  Could  he  have  all  the  signs, 
and  yet  not  be  the  thing  signified  ?  Could  the  shadows  that 
followed  him,  and  were  cast  from  him,  belong  to  any  other 
body  ?  All  these  things  are  absurd  and  unnatural ;  and  there 
fore  the  force  of  this  argument  was  undeniable. 

Nor  was  that  other  from  the  miracles  done  by  him  at  all 
inferior.  The  strength  and  force  of  which,  to  prove  the 
things  they  are  alleged  for,  consists  in  this,  that  a  miracle 
being  a  work  exceeding  the  power  of  any  created  agent,  and 
consequently  being  an  effect  of  the  divine  omnipotence,  when 
it  is  done  to  give  credit  and  authority  to  any  word  or  doctrine 
declared  to  proceed  from  God,  either  that  doctrine  must  really 
proceed  from  God'  as  it  is  declared,  or  God  by  that  work  of 
his  almighty  power  must  bear  witness  to  a  falsehood,  and 
so  bring  the  creature  under  the  greatest  obligation  that  can 
possibly  engage  the  assent  of  a  rational  nature,  to  believe  and 
assent  to  a  lie.  For  surely  a  greater  reason  than  this  can  not 
be  produced  for  the  belief  of  any  thing  than  for  a  man  to 
stand  up  and  say,  This  and  this  I  tell  you  as  the  mind  and 
word  of  God  ;  and  to  prove  that  it  is  so,  I  will  do  that  before 
your  eyes,  that  you  yourselves  shall  confess  can  be  done  by 
nothing  but  the  almighty  power  of  that  God  that  can  neither 
deceive  nor  be  deceived.  Now  if  this  be  an  irrefragable  way 
to  convince,  as  the  reason  of  all  mankind  must  confess  it  to 
be,  then  Christ's  doctrine  came  attended  and  enforced  with 


JOHN  vii.  17.]  was  rejected  by  the  Jews.  113 

the  greatest  means  of  conviction  imaginable.  Thus  much  for 
the  argument  in  thesi :  and  then  for  the  assumption  that  Christ 
did  such  miraculous  and  supernatural  works  to  confirm  what 
he  said,  we  need  only  repeat  the  message  sent  by  him  to  John 
the  Baptist ;  that  the  dumb  spake,  the  blind  saw,  the  lame  walked, 
and  tJw  dead  were  raised.  Which  particulars  none  of  his  bit 
terest  enemies  ever  pretended  to  deny,  they  being  conveyed 
to  them  by  an  evidence  past  all  exception,  even  the  evidence 
of  sense ;  nay  of  the  quickest,  the  surest,  and  most  authentic 
of  all  the  senses,  the  sight :  which  if  it  be  not  certain  in  the 
reports  and  representations  it  makes  of  things  to  the  mind, 
there  neither  is,  nor  can  be  naturally,  any  such  thing  as  cer 
tainty  or  knowledge  in  the  world.  And  thus  much  for  the 
first  part  of  the  second  general  thing  proposed ;  namely,  That 
the  arguments  brought  by  Christ  for  the  proof  of  his  doc 
trine  were  in  themselves  convincing  and  sufficient. 

I  come  now  to  the  other  part  of  it,  which  is  to  show,  That 
admitting  or  supposing  that  they  were  not  sufficient,  yet  their 
insufficiency  was  not  the  cause  of  their  actual  rejection. 
Which  will  appear  from  these  following  reasons : 

(1.)  Because  those  who  rejected  Christ's  doctrine,  and  the 
arguments  by  which  he  confirmed  it,  fully  believed  and  as 
sented  to  other  things  conveyed  to  them  with  less  evidence. 
Such  as  were  even  the  miracles  of  Moses  himself,  upon  the 
credit  and  authority  of  which  stood  the  whole  economy  of  the 
Jewish  constitution.  For  though  I  grant  that  they  believed 
his  miracles  upon  the  credit  of  constant  unerring  tradition, 
both  written  and  unwritten,  and  grant  also  that  such  tradi 
tion  was  of  as  great  certainty  as  the  reports  of  sense,  yet 
still  I  affirm  that  it  was  not  of  the  same  evidence,  which  yet 
is  the  greatest  and  most  immediate  ground  of  all  assent. 

The  evidence  of  sense  (as  I  have  noted)  is  the  clearest  that 
naturally  the  mind  of  man  can  receive,  and  is  indeed  the 
foundation  both  of  all  the  evidence  and  certainty  too,  that 
tradition  is  capable  of;  which  pretends  to  no  other  credibility 
from  the  testimony  and  word  of  some  men,  but  because  their 
word  is  at  length  traced  up  to,  and  originally  terminates  in, 
the  sense  and  experience  of  some  others,  which  could  not  be 
known  beyond  that  compass  of  time  in  which  it  was  exer 
cised,  but  by  being  told  and  reported  to  such  as,  not  living 

VOL.  I.  8 


114  Why  Christ's  Doctrine  [SERM.VI. 

at  that  time,  saw  it  not,  and  by  them  to  others,  and  so  down 
from  one  age  to  another.  For  we  therefore  helieve  the  re 
port  of  some  men  concerning  a  thing,  because  it  implies  that 
there  were  some  others  who  actually  saw  that  thing.  It  is 
clear  therefore,  that  want  of  evidence  could  not  be  the  cause 
that  the  Jews  rejected  and  disbelieved  the  gospel,  since  they 
embraced  and  believed  the  law,  upon  the  credit  of  those  mira 
cles  that  were  less  evident.  For  those  of  Christ  they  knew 
by  sight  and  sense,  those  of  Moses  only  by  tradition  ;  which, 
though  equally  certain,  yet  were  by  no  means  equally  evident 
with  the  other. 

(2.)  They  believed  and  assented  to  things  that  were  neither 
evident  nor  certain,  but  only  probable ;  for  they  conversed, 
they  traded,  they  merchandized,  and,  by  so  doing,  frequently 
ventured  their  whole  estates  and  fortunes  upon  a  probable 
belief  or  persuasion  of  the  honesty  and  truth  of  those  whom 
they  dealt  and  corresponded  with.  And  interest,  especially 
in  worldly  matters,  and  yet  more  especially  with  a  Jew,  never 
proceeds  but  upon  supposal,  at  least,  of  a  firm  and  sufficient 
bottom  :  from  whence  it  is  manifest,  that,  since  they  could  be 
lieve  and  practically  rely  upon,  and  that  even  in  their  dearest 
concerns,  bare  probabilities,  they  could  not  with  any  color  of 
reason  pretend  want  of  evidence  for  their  disbelief  of  Christ's 
doctrine,  which  came  enforced  with  arguments  far  surpassing 
all  such  probabilities. 

(3.)  They  believed  and  assented  to  things  neither  evident 
nor  certain,  nor  yet  so  much  as  probable,  but  actually  false 
and  fallacious.  Such  as  were  the  absurd  doctrines  and  stories 
of  their  rabbins  :  which,  though  since  Christ's  time  they  have 
grown  much  more  numerous  and  fabulous  than  before,  yet 
even  then  did  so  much  pester  the  church,  and  so  grossly 
abuse  and  delude  the  minds  of  that  people,  that  contradic 
tions  themselves  asserted  by  rabbies  were  equally  received  and 
revered  by  them  as  the  sacred  and  infallible  word  of  God. 
And  whereas  they  rejected  Christ  and  his  doctrine,  though 
every  tittle  of  it  came  enforced  with  miracle,  and  the  best 
arguments  that  heaven  and  earth  could  back  it  with,  yet 
Christ  then  foretold,  and  after-times  confirmed  that  predic 
tion  of  his  in  John  v.  43,  that  they  should  receive  many 
cheats  and  deceivers  coming  to  them  in  their  own  name : 


i.  17.]  was  rejected  by  the  Jews.  115 

fellows  that  set  up  for  Messias's  only  upon  their  own  heads, 
without  pretending  to  any  thing  singular  or  miraculous,  hut 
impudence  and  imposture. 

From  all  which  it  follows,  that  the  Jews  could  not  allege 
so  much  as  a  pretense  of  the  want  of  evidence  in  the  argu 
ment  brought  hy  Christ  to  prove  the  divinity  and  authority 
of  his  doctrine,  as  a  reason  of  their  rejection  and  disbelief  of 
it ;  since  they  embraced  and  believed  many  things,  for  some 
of  which  they  had  no  evidence,  and  for  others  of  which  they 
had  no  certainty,  and  for  most  of  which  they  had  not  so  much 
as  probability.  Which  being  so,  from  whence  then  could 
such  an  obstinate  infidelity,  in  matters  of  so  great  clearness 
and  credibility,  take  its  rise  ?  Why,  this  will  be  made  out  to 
us  in  the 

Third  thing  proposed,  which  was  to  show,  What  was  the 
true  and  proper  cause  into  which  this  unbelief  of  the  Phar 
isees  was  resolved.  And  that  was,  in  a  word,  the  captivity 
of  their  wills  and  affections  to  lusts  directly  opposite  to  the 
design  and  spirit  of  Christianity.  They  were  extremely 
ambitious  and  insatiably  covetous,  and  therefore  no  impres 
sion  from  argument  or  miracle  could  reach  them ;  but  they 
stood  proof  against  all  conviction.  Now,  to  show  how  the 
pravity  of  the  will  could  influence  the  understanding  to  a 
disbelief  of  Christianity,  I  shall  premise  these  two  considera 
tions  : 

1.  That  the  understanding,  in  its  assent  to  any  religion,  is 
very  differently  wrought  upon  in  persons  bred  up  in  it  and 
in  persons  at  length  converted  to  it.     For  in  the  first  it  finds 
the  mind  naked  and  unprepossessed  with  any  former  notions, 
and  so  easily  and  insensibly  gains  upon  the  assent,  grows  up 
with  it,  and  incorporates  into  it.     But  in  persons  adult,  and 
already  possessed  with  other  notions  of  religion,  the  under 
standing  can   not  be  brought  to  quit  these,  and  to  change 
them  for  new,  but  by  great  consideration  and  examination  of 
the  truth  and  firmness  of  the  one,  and  comparing  them  with 
the  flaws  and  weakness  of  the  other.     Which  can  not  be  done 
without   some  labor   and  intention   of  the   mind,   and   the 
thoughts  dwelling  a  considerable  time  upon  the  survey  and 
discussion  of  each  particular. 

2.  The  other  thing  to  be  considered  is,  that  in  this  great 


116  Why  Christ's  Doctrine  [SERM.  vi. 

work,  the  understanding-  is  chiefly  at  the  disposal  of  the  will. 
For  though  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  the  will  directly  either 
to  cause  or  hinder  the  assent  of  the  understanding  to  a  thing 
proposed  and  duly  set  before  it,  yet  it  is  antecedently  in  the 
power  of  the  will  to  apply  the  understanding  faculty  to,  or 
to  take  it  off  from  the  consideration  of  those  objects  to  which, 
without  such  a  previous  consideration,  it  can  not  yield  its  as 
sent.  For  all  assent  presupposes  a  simple  apprehension  or 
knowledge  of  the  terms  of  the  proposition  to  be  assented  to. 
But  unless  the  understanding  employ  or  exercise  its  cognitive 
or  apprehensive  power  about  these  terms,  there  can  be  no 
actual  apprehension  of  them.  And  the  understanding,  as  to 
the  exercise  of  this  power,  is  subject  to  the  command  of  the 
will,  though  as  to  the  specific  nature  of  its  acts  it  is  deter 
mined  by  the  object.  As,  for  instance;  my  understanding 
can  not  assent  to  this  proposition,  That  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son 
of  God ;  but  it  must  first  consider,  and  so  apprehend,  what 
the  terms  and  parts  of  it  are,  and  what  they  signify.  And 
this  can  not  be  done,  if  my  will  be  so  slothful,  worldly,  or 
voluptuously  disposed,  as  never  to  suffer  me  at  all  to  think  of 
them,  but  perpetually  to  carry  away  and  apply  my  mind  to 
other  things.  Thus  far  is  the  understanding  at  the  disposal 
of  the  will. 

Now  these  two  considerations  being  premised,  namely,  that 
persons  grown  up  in  the  belief  of  any  religion  can  not  change 
that  for  another,  without  applying  their  understanding  duly 
to  consider  and  to  compare  both ;  and  then,  that  it  is  in  the 
power  of  the  will,  whether  it  will  suffer  the  understanding 
thus  to  dwell  upon  such  objects  or  no :  from  these  two,  I  say, 
we  have  the  true  philosophy  and  reason  of  the  Pharisees' 
unbelief;  for  they  could  not  relinquish  their  Judaism,  and 
embrace  Christianity,  without  considering,  weighing,  and 
collating  both  religions.  And  this  their  understanding  could 
not  apply  to,  if  it  were  diverted  and  took  off  by  their  will ; 
and  their  will  would  be  sure  to  divert  and  take  it  off,  being 
wholly  possessed  and  governed  by  their  covetousness  and 
ambition,  which  perfectly  abhorred  the  precepts  of  such  a 
doctrine.  And  this  is  the  very  account  that  our  Saviour 
himself  gives  of  this  matter  in  John  v.  44.  How  can  ye  believe, 
says  he,  who  receive  honor  one  of  another  ?  He  looked  upon 


JOHN  vii.  17.]  was  rejected  by  the  Jews.  117 

it  as  a  thing  morally  impossible,  for  persons  infinitely  proud 
and  ambitious,  to  frame  their  minds  to  an  impartial  unbiased 
consideration  of  a  religion  that  taught  nothing  but  self-denial 
and  the  cross ;  that  humility  was  honor,  and  that  the  higher 
men  climbed,  the  further  they  were  from  heaven.  They 
could  not  with  patience  so  much  as  think  of  it ;  and  there 
fore,  you  may  be  sure,  would  never  assent  to  it.  And  again, 
when  Christ  discoursed  to  them  of  alms,  and  a  pious  distri 
bution  of  the  goods  and  riches  of  this  world,  in  Luke  xvi.  it 
is  said  in  the  14th  verse,  that  the  Pharisees,  who  were  covetous, 
heard  all  those  tilings,  and  derided  him.  Charity  and  lib 
erality  is  a  paradox  to  the  covetous.  The  doctrine  that 
teaches  alms,  and  the  persons  that  need  them,  are  by  such 
equally  sent  packing.  Tell  a  miser  of  bounty  to  a  friend,  or 
mercy  to  the  poor,  and  point  him  out  his  duty  with  an  evi 
dence  as  bright  and  piercing  as  the  light,  yet  he  will  not 
understand  it,  but  shuts  his  eyes  as  close  as  he  does  his 
hands,  and  resolves  not  to  be  convinced.  In  both  these  cases 
there  is  an  incurable  blindness  caused  by  a  resolution  not  to 
see ;  and  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  he  who  will  not  open 
his  eyes,  is  for  the  present  as  blind  as  he  that  can  not.  And 
thus  I  have  done  with  the  third  thing  proposed,  and  shown 
what  was  the  true  cause  of  the  Pharisees'  disbelief  of  Christ's 
doctrine :  it  was  the  predominance  of  those  two  great  vices 
over  their  will,  their  covetousness  and  ambition.  Pass  we 
now  to  the 

Fourth  and  last,  which  is  to  show,  That  a  pious  and  well- 
disposed  mind,  attended  with  a  readiness  to  obey  the  known 
will  of  God,  is  the  surest  and  best  means  to  enlighten  the  un 
derstanding  to  a  belief  of  Christianity.  That  it  is  so,  will 
appear  upon  a  double  account. 

First,  upon  the  account  of  God's  goodness,  and  the  method 
of  his  dealing  with  the  souls  of  men ;  which  is,  to  reward 
every  degree  of  sincere  obedience  to  his  will,  with  a  further 
discovery  of  it.  I  understand  more  than  the  ancients,  says 
David,  Psalm  cxix.  100.  But  how  did  he  attain  to  such  an 
excellency  of  understanding?  Was  it  by  longer  study,  or  a 
greater  quickness  and  felicity  of  parts,  than  was  in  those  be 
fore  him  ?  No ;  he  gives  the  reason  in  the  next  words ;  it  was, 
because  I  keep  thy  statutes.  He  got  the  start  of  them  in  point 


118  Why  Christ's  Doctrine  [SERM.  VI. 

of  obedience,  and  thereby  outstript  them  at  length  in  point 
of  knowledge.  And  who  in  old  time  were  the  men  of  extraor 
dinary  revelations,  but  those  who  were  also  men  of  extraor 
dinary  piety  ?  Who  were  made  privy  to  the  secrets  of  Heaven, 
and  the  hidden  will  of  the  Almighty,  but  such  as  performed 
his  revealed  will  at  an  higher  rate  of  strictness  than  the 
rest  of  the  world  ?  They  were  the  Enochs,  the  Abrahams, 
the  Elijahs,  and  the  Daniels ;  such  as  the  scripture  remark 
ably  testifies  of,  that  they  walked  with  God.  And,  surely,  he 
that  walks  with  another  is  in  a  likelier  way  to  know  and  un 
derstand  his  mind  than  he  that  follows  him  at  a  distance. 
Upon  which  account,  the  learned  Jews  still  made  this  one  of 
the  ingredients  that  went  to  constitute  a  prophet,  that  he 
should  be  perfectus  in  moralibus,  a  person  of  exact  morals,  and 
unblamable  in  his  life :  the  gift  of  prophecy  being  a  ray  of 
such  a  light  as  never  darts  itself  upon  a  dunghill.  And 
what  I  here  observe  occasionally  of  extraordinary  revelation 
and  prophecy,  will  by  analogy  and  due  proportion  extend  even 
to  those  communications  of  God's  will  that  are  requisite  to 
men's  salvation.  An  honest  hearty  simplicity  and  proneness 
to  do  all  that  a  man  knows  of  God's  will,  is  the  ready,  certain, 
and  infallible  way  to  know  more  of  it.  For  I  am  sure  it  may 
be  said  of  the  practical  knowledge  of  religion,  that  to  him  that 
hath  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  more  abundantly. 

I  dare  not,  I  confess,  join  in  that  bold  assertion  of  some, 
that  facienti  quod  in  se  est,  Deus  nee  debet,  nee  potest  denegare 
gratiam,  which  indeed  is  no  less  than  a  direct  contradiction  in 
the  very  terms  ;  for  if  Deus  debet,  then  'id  quod  debetur  non  est 
gratia;  there  being  a  perfect  inconsistency  between  that 
which  is  of  debt  and  that  which  is  of  free  gift.  And  there 
fore  leaving  the  non  debet  and  the  non  potest  to  those  that  can 
bind  and  loose  the  Almighty  at  their  pleasure,  so  much,  I 
think,  we  may  pronounce  safely  in  this  matter,  that  the  good 
ness  and  mercy  of  God  is  such  that  he  never  deserts  a  sincere 
person,  nor  suffers  any  one  that  shall  live  (even  according  to 
these  measures  of  sincerity)  up  to  what  he  knows,  to  perish 
for  want  of  any  knowledge  necessary,  and,  what  is  more,  suffi 
cient  to  save  him. 

If  any  one  should  here  say,  Were  there  then  none  living 
up  to  these  measures  of  sincerity  amongst  the  heathen  ?  and 


JOHN  vii..  17.]  was  rejected  by  the  Jews.  119 

if  there  were,  did  the  goodness  of  God  afford  such  persons 
knowledge  enough  to  save  them  ?  My  answer  is  according  to 
that  of  St.  Paul,  I  judge  not  those  that  are  without  the  church  : 
they  stand  or  fall  to  their  own  master  :  I  have  nothing  to  say 
of  them.  Secret  things  belong  to  God:  it  becomes  us  to  be 
thankful  to  God,  and  charitable  to  men. 

2.  A  pious  and  well-disposed  will  is  the  readiest  means  to 
enlighten  the  understanding  to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth  of 
Christianity,  upon  the  account  of  a  natural  efficiency ;  for 
asmuch  as  a  will  so  disposed  will  be  sure  to  engage  the  mind 
in  a  severe  search  into  the  great  and  concerning  truths  of 
religion  :  nor  will  it  only  engage  the  mind  in  such  a  search ; 
but  it  will  also  accompany  that  search  with  two  dispositions, 
directly  tending  to,  and  principally  productive  of,  the  dis 
coveries  of  truth,  namely,  diligence  and  impartiality.  And, 

(1.)  For  the  diligence  of  the  search.  Diligence  is  the 
great  harbinger  of  truth ;  which  rarely  takes  up  in  any  mind 
till  that  has  gone  before,  and  made  room  for  it.  It  is  a 
steady,  constant,  and  pertinacious  study,  that  naturally  leads 
the  soul  into  the  knowledge  of  that  which  at  first  seemed 
locked  up  from  it.  For  this  keeps  the  understanding  long  in 
converse  with  an  object :  and  long  converse  brings  acquaint 
ance.  Frequent  consideration  of  a  thing  wears  off  the 
strangeness  of  it,  and  shows  it  in  its  several  lights,  and  vari 
ous  ways  of  appearance,  to  the  view  of  the  mind. 

Truth  is  a  great  stronghold,  barred  and  fortified  by  God 
and  nature;  and  diligence  is  properly  the  understanding's 
laying  siege  to  it :  so  that,  as  in  a  kind  of  warfare,  it  must  be 
perpetually  upon  the  watch ;  observing  all  the  avenues  and 
passes  to  it,  and  accordingly  makes  its  approaches.  Some 
times  it  thinks  it  gains  a  point ;  and  presently  again  it  finds 
itself  baffled  and  beaten  off :  yet  still  it  renews  the  onset ; 
attacks  the  difficulty  afresh  ;  plants  this  reasoning,  and  that 
argument,  this  consequence,  and  that  distinction,  like  so 
many  intellectual  batteries,  till  at  length  it  forces  a  way  and 
passage  into  the  obstinate  enclosed  truth,  that  so  long  with 
stood  and  defied  all  its  assaults. 

The  Jesuits  have  a  saying  common  amongst  them,  touch 
ing  the  institution  of  youth,  (in  which  their  chief  strength 
and  talent  lies,)  that  vexatio  dat  intelkctum.  As  when  the 


120  Why  Chtist's  Doctrine  [SBBM.VI. 

mind  casts  and  turns  itself  restlessly  from  one  thing  to 
another,  strains  this  power  of  the  soul  to  apprehend,  that  to 
judge,  another  to  divide,  a  fourth  to  rememher ;  thus  tracing 
out  the  nice  and  scarce  observable  difference  of  some  things, 
and  the  real  agreement  of  others,  till  at  length  it  brings  all 
the  ends  of  a  long  and  various  hypothesis  together ;  sees  how 
one  part  coheres  with  and  depends  upon  another;  and  so 
clears  off  all  the  appearing  contrarieties  and  contradictions 
that  seemed  to  lie  cross  and  uncouth,  and  to  make  the  whole 
unintelligible.  This  is  the  laborious  and  vexatious  inquest 
that  the  soul  must  make  after  science.  For  truth,  like  a 
stately  dame,  will  not  be  seen,  nor  show  herself  at  the  first 
visit,  nor  match  with  the  understanding  upon  an  ordinary 
courtship  or  address.  Long  and  tedious  attendances  must  be 
given,  and  the  hardest  fatigues  endured  and  digested ;  nor 
did  ever  the  most  pregnant  wit  in  the  world  bring  forth  any 
thing  great,  lasting,  and  considerable,  without  some  pain  and 
travail,  some  pangs  and  throes,  before  the  delivery. 

Now  all  this,  that  I  have  said,  is  to  show  the  force  of  dili 
gence  in  the  investigation  of  truth,  and  particularly  of  the 
noblest  of  all  truths,  which  is  that  of  religion.  But  then,  as 
diligence  is  the  great  discoverer  of  truth,  so  is  the  will  the 
great  spring  of  diligence.  For  no  man  can  heartily  search 
after  that  which  he  is  not  very  desirous  to  find.  Diligence  is 
to  the  understanding  as  the  whetstone  to  the  razor  ;  but  the 
will  is  the  hand  that  must  apply  one  to  the  other. 

What  makes  many  men  so  strangely  immerse  themselves, 
some  in  chemical,  and  some  in  mathematical  inquiries,  but 
because  they  strangely  love  the  things  they  labor  in  ?  Their 
intent  study  gives  them  skill  and  proficiency,  and  their  par 
ticular  affection  to  these  kinds  of  knowledge  puts  them  upon 
such  study.  Accordingly  let  there  be  but  the  same  pro 
pensity  and  bent  of  will  to  religion,  and  there  will  be  the 
same  sedulity  and  indefatigable  industry  in  men's  inquiry  into 
it.  And  then,  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  the  conse 
quent  of  a  sedulous  seeking  is  finding,  and  the  fruit  of  in 
quiry  is  information. 

(2.)  A  pious  and  well-disposed  will  gives  not  only  diligence, 
but  also  impartiality  to  the  understanding,  in  its  search  into 
religion,  which  is  as  absolutely  necessary  to  give  success  to 


ii.  17.]  was  rejected  by  the  Jews.  121 

our  inquiries  into  truth  as  the  former ;  it  being  scarce  pos 
sible  for  that  man  to  hit  the  mark,  whose  eye  is  still  glancing 
upon  something  beside  it.  Partiality  is  properly  the  under 
standing's  judging  according  to  the  inclination  of  the  will 
and  affections,  and  not  according  to  the  exact  truth  of  things, 
or  the  merits  of  the  cause  before  it.  Affection  is  still  a  briber 
of  the  judgment ;  and  it  is  hard  for  a  man  to  admit  a  reason 
against  the  thing  he  loves,  or  to  confess  the  force  of  an  ar 
gument  against  an  interest. 

In  this  case  he  prevaricates  with  his  own  understanding, 
and  can  not  seriously  and  sincerely  set  his  mind  to  consider 
the  strength,  to  poise  the  weight,  and  to  discern  the  evidence 
of  the  clearest  and  best  argumentations,  where  they  would 
conclude  against  the  darling  of  his  desires.  For  still  that 
beloved  thing  possesses  and  even  engrosses  him,  and  like  a 
colored  glass  before  his  eyes  casts  its  own  color  and  tincture 
upon  all  the  images  and  ideas  of  things  that  pass  from  the 
fancy  to  the  understanding ;  and  so  absolutely  does  it  sway 
that,  that  if  a  strange  irresistible  evidence  of  some  unaccept 
able  truth  should  chance  to  surprise  and  force  reason  to  as 
sent  to  the  premises,  affection  would  yet  step  in  at  last,  and 
make  it  quit  the  conclusion. 

Upon  which  account,  Socinus  and  his  followers  state  the 
reason  of  a  man's  believing  or  embracing  Christianity  upon 
the  natural  goodness  or  virtuous  disposition  of  his  mind, 
which  they  sometimes  call  naturalis  probitas,  and  sometimes 
animus  in  virtutem  pronus.  For,  say  they,  the  whole  doctrine 
of  Christianity  teaches  nothing  but  what  is  perfectly  suitable 
to,  and  coincident  with,  the  ruling  principles  that  a  virtuous 
and  well  -  inclined  man  is  acted  by,  and  with  the  main  in 
terest  that  he  proposes  to  himself.  So  that  as  soon  as  ever 
it  is  declared  to  such  an  one,  he  presently  closes  in,  accepts, 
and  complies  with  it :  as  a  prepared  soil  eagerly  takes  in  and 
firmly  retains  such  seed  or  plants  as  particularly  agree  with  it. 

With  ordinary  minds,  such  as  much  the  greatest  part  of 
the  world  are,  it  is  the  suitableness,  not  the  evidence  of  a 
truth,  that  makes  it  to  be  assented  to.  And  it  is  seldom  that 
any  thing  practically  convinces  a  man,  that  does  not  please 
him  first.  If  you  would  be  sure  of  him,  you  must  inform 
and  gratify  him  too.  But  now,  impartiality  strips  the  mind 


122  Why  Christ's  Doctrine  [SEEM.  vi. 

of  prejudice  and  passion,  keeps  it  right  and  even  from  the 
bias  of  interest  and  desire,  and  so  presents  it  like  a  rasa 
tabula,  equally  disposed  to  the  reception  of  all  truth.  So 
that  the  soul  lies  prepared,  and  open  to  entertain  it,  and  pre 
possessed  with  nothing  that  can  oppose  or  thrust  it  out.  For 
where  diligence  opens  the  door  of  the  understanding,  and 
impartiality  keeps  it,  truth  is  sure  to  find  both  an  entrance 
and  a  welcome  too. 

And  thus  I  have  done  with  the  fourth  and  last  general 
thing  proposed,  and  proved  by  argument,  that  a  pious  and 
well-disposed  mind,  attended  with  a  readiness  to  obey  the 
known  will  of  God,  is  the  surest  and  best  means  to  enlighten 
the  understanding  to  a  belief  of  Christianity. 

Now,  from  the  foregoing  particulars,  by  way  of  use,  we 
may  collect  these  two  things  : 

1.  The  true  cause  of  that  atheism,  that  skepticism  and 
caviling  at  religion,  that  we  see  and  have  cause  to  lament 
in  too  many  in  these  days.  It  is  not  from  any  thing  weak 
or  wanting  in  our  religion,  to  support  and  enable  it  to  look 
the  strongest  arguments  and  the  severest  and  most  control 
ling  reason  in  the  face  :  but  men  are  atheistical  because  they 
are  first  vicious,  and  question  the  truth  of  Christianity 
because  they  hate  the  practice.  And  therefore,  that  they 
may  seem  to  have  some  pretense  and  color  to  sin  on  freely, 
and  to  surrender  up  themselves  wholly  to  their  sensuality 
without  any  imputation  upon  their  judgment,  and  to  quit 
their  morals  without  any  discredit  to  their  intellectuals,  they 
fly  to  several  stale,  trite,  pitiful  objections  and  cavils,  some 
against  religion  in  general,  and  some  against  Christianity  in 
particular,  and  some  against  the  very  first  principles  of  mo 
rality,  to  give  them  some  poor  credit  and  countenance  in  the 
pursuit  of  their  brutish  courses. 

Few  practical  errors  in  the  world  are  embraced  upon  the 
stock  of  conviction,  but  inclination :  for  though  indeed  the 
judgment  may  err  upon  the  account  of  weakness,  yet  where 
there  is  one  error  that  enters  in  at  this  door,  ten  are  let  into 
it  through  the  will :  that,  for  the  most  part,  being  set  upon 
those  things,  which  truth  is  a  direct  obstacle  to  the  enjoy 
ment  of ;  and  where  both  can  not  be  had,  a  man  will  be  sure 
to  buy  his  enjoyment,  though  he  pays  down  truth  for  the 


JOHN  vii.  17.]  was  rejected  by  the  Jews.  123 

purchase.  For  in  this  case,  the  further  from  truth,  the  fur 
ther  from  trouble  :  since  truth  shows  such  an  one  what  he  is 
unwilling  to  see,  and  tells  him  what  he  hates  to  hear.  They 
are  the  same  beams  that  shine  and  enlighten,  and  are  apt  to 
scorch  too :  and  it  is  impossible  for  a  man  engaged  in  any 
wicked  way,  to  have  a  clear  understanding  of  it,  and  a  quiet 
mind  in  it  together. 

But  these  sons  of  Epicurus,  both  for  voluptuousness  and 
irreligion  also,  (as  it  is  hard  to  support  the  former  without 
the  latter,)  these,  I  say,  rest  not  here ;  but  (if  you  will  take 
them  at  their  word)  they  must  also  pass  for  the  only  wits  of 
the  age :  though  greater  arguments,  I  am  sure,  may  be  pro 
duced  against  this  than  any  they  can  allege  against  the  most 
improbable  article  of  Christianity.  But  heretofore  the  rate 
and  standard  of  wit  was  very  different  from  what  it  is  nowa 
days.  No  man  was  then  accounted  a  wit  for  speaking  such 
things  as  deserved  to  have  the  tongue  cut  out  that  spake  them : 
nor  did  any  man  pass  for  a  philosopher,  or  a  man  of  depth,  for 
talking  atheistically  :  or  a  man  of  parts,  for  employing  them 
against  that  God  that  gave  them.  For  then  the  world  was 
generally  better  inclined ;  virtue  was  in  so  much  reputation 
as  to  be  pretended  to  at  least.  And  virtue,  whether  in  a 
Christian  or  in  an  infidel,  can  have  no  interest  to  be  served 
either  by  atheism  or  infidelity. 

For  which  cause,  could  we  but  prevail  with  the  greatest 
debauchees  amongst  us  to  change  their  lives,  we  should  find 
it  no  very  hard  matter  to  change  their  judgments.  For  not 
withstanding  all  their  talk  of  reason  and  philosophy,  which 
(God  knows)  they  are  deplorably  strangers  to  5  and  those 
unanswerable  doubts  and  difficulties,  which,  over  their  cups 
or  their  coffee,  they  pretend  to  have  against  Christianity ; 
persuade  but  the  covetous  man  not  to  deify  his  money ;  the 
proud  man  not  to  adore  himself;  the  lascivious  man  to  throw 
off  his  lewd  amours ;  the  intemperate  man  to  abandon  his 
revels;  and  so  for  any  other  vice,  that  is  apt  to  abuse  and 
pervert  the  mind  of  man;  and  I  dare  undertake,  that  all 
their  giant-like  objections  against  Christian  religion  shall 
presently  vanish  and  quit  the  field.  For  he  that  is  a  good 
man,  is  three  quarters  of  his  way  towards  the  being  a  good 
Christian,  wheresoever  he  lives,  or  whatsoever  he  is  called. 


124  Why  Christ's  Doctrine  [SERM.  vi. 

2.  In  the  next  place,  we  learn  from  hence  the  most  effect 
ual  way  and  means  of  proficiency  and  growth  in  the  knowl 
edge  of  the  great  and  profound  truths  of  religion,  and  how 
to  make  us  all  not  only  good  Christians,  hut  also  expert 
divines.  It  is  a  knowledge  that  men  are  not  so  much  to 
study  as  to  live  themselves  into  :  a  knowledge  that  passes 
into  the  head  through  the  heart.  I  have  heard  of  some, 
that  in  their  latter  years,  through  the  feebleness  of  their 
limbs,  have  been  forced  to  study  upon  their  knees:  and  I 
think  it  might  well  become  the  youngest  and  the  strongest 
to  do  so  too.  Let  them  daily  and  incessantly  pray  to  God 
for  his  grace  ;  and  if  God  gives  grace,  they  may  be  sure 
that  knowledge  will  not  stay  long  behind :  since  it  is  the 
same  spirit  and  principle  that  purifies  the  heart,  and  clarifies 
the  understanding.  Let  all  their  inquiries  into  the  deep 
and  mysterious  points  of  theology  be  begun  and  carried  on 
with  fervent  petitions  to  God ;  that  he  would  dispose  their 
minds  to  direct  all  their  skill  and  knowledge  to  the  promo 
tion  of  a  good  life,  both  in  themselves  and  others ;  that  he 
would  use  all  their  noblest  speculations,  and  most  refined 
notions,  only  as  instruments,  to  move  and  set  at  work  the 
great  principles  of  actions,  the  will  and  the  affections ;  that 
he  would  convince  them  of  the  infinite  vanity  and  uselessness 
of  all  that  learning  that  makes  not  the  possessor  of  it  a  bet 
ter  man  ;  that  he  would  keep  them  from  those  sins  that  may 
grieve  and  provoke  his  holy  Spirit  (the  fountain  of  all  true 
light  and  knowledge)  to  withdraw  from  them,  and  so  seal 
them  up  under  darkness,  blindness,  and  stupidity  of  mind. 
For  where  the  heart  is  bent  upon,  and  held  under  the  power 
of,  any  vicious  course,  though  Christ  himself  should  take 
the  contrary  virtue  for  his  doctrine,  and  do  a  miracle  before 
such  an  one's  eyes,  for  its  application,  yet  he  would  not 
practically  gain  his  assent,  but  the  result  of  all  would  end  in 
a  non  persuadebis  etiamsi  persuaseris.  Few  consider  what  a 
degree  of  sottishness  and  confirmed  ignorance  men  may  sin 
themselves  into. 

This  was  the  case  of  the  Pharisees.  And  no  doubt  but 
this  very  consideration  also  gives  us  the  true  reason  and  full 
explication  of  that  notable  and  strange  passage  of  scripture, 
in  Luke  xvi.  and  the  last  verse :  That  if  men  will  not  hear 


JOHN  vii.  17.]  was  rejected  by  the  Jews.  125 

Moses  and  the  propliets,  neither  will  they  be  persuaded,  though 
one  rose  from  the  dead.  That  is,  where  a  strong  inveterate  love 
of  sin  has  made  any  doctrine  or  proposition  wholly  unsuitable 
to  the  heart,  no  argument  or  demonstration,  no  nor  miracle 
whatsoever,  shall  be  able  to  bring  the  heart  cordially  to  close 
with  and  receive  it.  Whereas,  on  the  contrary,  if  the  heart 
be  piously  disposed,  the  natural  goodness  of  any  doctrine  is 
enough  to  vouch  for  the  truth  of  it :  for  the  suitableness  of  it 
will  endear  it  to  the  will,  and  by  endearing  it  to  the  will,  will 
naturally  slide  it  into  the  assent  also.  For  in  morals,  as  well 
as  in  metaphysics,  there  is  nothing  really  good  but  has  a 
truth  commensurate  to  its  goodness. 

The  truths  of  Christ  crucified  are  the  Christian's  philoso 
phy,  and  a  good  life  is  the  Christian's  logic,  that  great  in 
strumental  introductive  art  that  must  guide  the  mind  into 
the  former.  And  where  a  long  course  of  piety,  and  close 
communion  with  God,  has  purged  the  heart,  and  rectified  the 
will,  and  made  all  things  ready  for  the  reception  of  God's 
Spirit,  knowledge  will  break  in  upon  such  a  soul,  like  the 
sun  shining  in  his  full  might,  with  such  a  victorious  light, 
that  nothing  shall  be  able  to  resist  it. 

If  now  at  length  some  should  object  here,  that,  from  what 
has  been  delivered,  it  will  follow,  that  the  most  pious  men  are 
still  the  most  knowing,  which  yet  seems  contrary  to  common 
experience  and  observation,  I  answer,  that,  as  to  all  things 
directly  conducing  and  necessary  to  salvation,  there  is  no 
doubt  but  they  are  so  ;  as  the  meanest  common  soldier,  that 
has  fought  often  in  an  army,  has  a  truer  and  better  knowl 
edge  of  war  than  he  that  has  read  and  writ  whole  volumes  of 
it,  but  never  was  in  any  battle. 

Practical  sciences  are  not  to  be  learnt  but  in  the  way  of 
action.  It  is  experience  that  must  give  knowledge  in  the 
Christian  profession,  as  well  as  in  all  others.  And  the  knowl 
edge  drawn  from  experience  is  quite  of  another  kind  from 
that  which  flows  from  speculation  or  discourse.  It  is  not  the 
opinion,  but  the  path  of  the  just,  that,  the  wisest  of  men  tells 
us,  shines  more  and  more  unto  a  perfect  day.  The  obedient, 
and  the  men  of  practice,  are  those  sons  of  light  that  shall 
outgrow  all  their  doubts  and  ignorances,  that  shall  ride  upon 
these  clouds,  and  triumph  over  their  present  imperfections, 


126    Why  Christ's  Doctrine  was  Rejected  by  the  Jews.    [SERM.  vi. 

till  persuasion  pass  into  knowledge,  and  knowledge  advance 
into  assurance,  and  all  come  at  length  to  be  completed  in 
the  beatific  vision,  and  a  full  fruition  of  those  joys  which 
God  has  in  reserve  for  them  whom  by  his  grace  he  shall  pre 
pare  for  glory. 

To  which  G-od,  infinitely  wise,  holy,  and  just,  be  rendered  and 
ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise,  might,  majesty,  and  do 
minion,  both  now  and  for  evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  VII. 


A   SERMON   PREACHED    AT   THE    CONSECRATION    OF    A 
CHAPEL.     1667. 


PREFACE. 

A  FTER  the  happy  expiration  of  those  times  which  had  reformed 
"*•*•  so  many  churches  to  the  ground,  and  in  which  men  used  to 
express  their  honor  to  God,  and  their  allegiance  to  their  prince  the 
same  way,  demolishing  the  palaces  of  the  one  and  the  temples  of 
the  other,  it  is  now  our  glory  and  felicity,  that  God  has  changed 
men's  tempers  with  the  times,  and  made  a  spirit  of  building  succeed 
a  spirit  of  pulling  down,  —  by  a  miraculous  revolution,  reducing  many 
from  the  head  of  a  triumphant  rebellion  to  their  old  condition  of 
masons,  smiths,  and  carpenters,  that  in  this  capacity  they  might  re 
pair  what,  as  colonels  and  captains,  they  had  ruined  and  defaced. 

But  still  it  is  strange  to  see  any  ecclesiastical  pile,  not  by  eccle 
siastical  cost  and  influence  rising  above  ground ;  especially  in  an  age 
in  which  men's  mouths  are  open  against  the  church,  but  their  hands 
shut  towards  it ;  an  age  in  which,  respecting  the  generality  of  men, 
we  might  as  soon  expect  stones  to  be  made  bread,  as  to  be  made 
churches. 

But  the  more  epidemical  and  prevailing  this  evil  is,  the  more  hon 
orable  are  those  who  stand  and  shine  as  exceptions  from  the  com 
mon  practice  ;  and  may  such  places,  built  for  the  divine  worship,  de 
rive  an  honor  and  a  blessing  upon  the  head  of  the  builders,  as  great 
and  lasting  as  the  curse  and  infamy  that  never  fails  to  rest  upon  the 
sacrilegious  violators  of  them  ;  and  a  greater,  I  am  sure  I  need  not, 
I  can  not  wish. 

Now  the  foundation  of  what  I  shall  discourse,  upon  the  present 
subject  and  occasion,  shall  be  laid  in  that  place  in 


128  God's  Peculiar  Regard  to  Places  [SEKM.  vii. 


PSALM  Ixxxvii.  2.  —  God  hath  loved  the  gates  ofSion,  more  than  all  the  dwellings  of 

Jacob. 

THE  comparison  here  exhibited  between  the  love  God  bore 
to  Sion,  the  great  place  of  his  solemn  worship,  and  that 
which  he  bore  to  the  other  dwellings  of  Israel,  imports,  as 
all  other  comparisons  do  in  the  superior  part  of  them,  two 
things,  difference  and  preeminence :  and  accordingly  I  can 
not  more  commodiously  and  naturally  contrive  the  prosecution 
of  these  words,  than  by  casting  the  sense  of  them  into  these 
two  propositions : 

I.  That  God  bears  a  different  respect  to  places  set  apart 
and  consecrated  to   his  worship,  from  what  he   bears  to  all 
other  places  designed  to  the  uses  of  common  life. 

II.  That  God  prefers  the  worship  paid  him  in  such  places, 
above  that  which  is  offered  him  in  any  other  places  whatso 
ever. 

I.  As  to  the  former  of  these,  this  difference  of  respect, 
borne  by  God  to  such  places,  from  what  he  bears  to  others, 
may  be  evinced  these  three  several  ways : 

1.  By  those  eminent  interposals  of  Providence,   for  the 
erecting  and  preserving  of  such  places. 

2.  By  those  notable  judgments  shown  by  God  upon  the 
violators  of  them. 

3.  Lastly,  by  declaring  the  ground   and  reason  why  God 
shows  such  a  different  respect  to  those  places,  from  what  he 
manifests  to  others.     Of  all  which  in  their  order. 

1.  First  of  all  then,  those  eminent  interposals  of  the  divine 
Providence  for  the  erecting  and  preserving  such  places,  will 
be  one  pregnant  and  strong  argument  to  prove  the  difference 
of  God's  respect  to  them,  and  to  others  of  common  use. 

That  Providence  that  universally  casts  its  eye  over  all  the 
parts  of  the  creation,  is  yet  pleased  more  particularly  to  fasten 
it  upon  some.  God  made  all  the  world,  that  he  might  be 
worshiped  in  some  parts  of  the  world  ;  and  therefore  in  the 
first  and  most  early  times  of  the  church,  what  care  did  he 
manifest  to  have  such  places  erected  to  his  honor !  Jacob  he 
admonished  by  a  vision,  as  by  a  messenger  from  heaven,  to 
build  him  an  altar ;  and  then,  what  awe  did  Jacob  express  to 
it !  How  dreadful,  says  he,  is  this  place !  for  surely  it  is  no 


PS.  ixxxvii.  2.]         set  apart  for  Divine  Worship.  129 

other  than  the  house  of  God.  What  particular  inspirations 
were  there  upon  Aholihab  to  fit  him  to  work  about  the  sanct 
uary  !  The  Spirit  of  God  was  the  surveyor,  director,  and 
manager  of  the  whole  business.  But  above  all,  how  exact 
and  (as  we  may  say  with  reverence)  how  nice  was  God  about 
the  building  of  the  temple !  David,  though  a  man  of  most 
intimate  converse  and  acquaintance  with  God,  and  one  who 
bore  a  kingly  preeminence  over  others,  no  less  in  point  of 
piety  than  of  majesty,  after  he  had  made  such  rich,  such  vast, 
and  almost  incredible  provision  of  materials  for  the  building 
of  the  temple ;  but  because  he  had  dipt  his  hands  in  blood, 
though  but  the  blood  of  God's  enemies,  had  the  glory  of  that 
work  took  out  of  them,  and  was  not  permitted  to  lay  a  stone 
in  that  sacred  pile ;  but  the  whole  work  was  entirely  reserved 
for  Solomon,  a  prince  adorned  with  those  parts  of  mind,  and 
exalted  by  such  a  concurrence  of  all  prosperous  events  to 
make  him  glorious  and  magnificent,  as  if  God  had  made  it  his 
business  to  build  a  Solomon,  that  Solomon  might  build  him 
an  house.  To  which,  had  not  God  borne  a  very  different 
respect  from  what  he  bore  to  all  other  places,  why  might  not 
David  have  been  permitted  to  build  God  a  temple,  as  well  as 
to  rear  himself  a  palace  ?  Why  might  not  he,  who  was  so 
pious  as  to  design,  be  also  so  prosperous  as  to  finish  it  ?  God 
must  needs  have  set  a  more  than  ordinary  esteem  upon  that 
which  David,  the  man  after  his  own  heart,  the  darling  of 
Heaven ,  and  the  most  flaming  example  of  a  vigorous  love  to 
God  that  ever  was,  was  not  thought  fit  to  have  a  hand  in. 

And  to  proceed,  when,  after  a  long  tract  of  time,  the  sins 
of  Israel  had  even  unconsecrated  and  profaned  that  sacred 
edifice,  and  thereby  robbed  it  of  its  only  defense,  the  pal 
ladium  of  God's  presence,  so  that  the  Assyrians  laid  it  even 
with  the  ground  ;  yet  after  that  a  long  captivity  and  affliction 
had  made  the  Jews  fit  again  for  so  great  a  privilege  as  a 
public  place  to  worship  God  in,  how  did  God  put  it  into  the 
heart,  even  of  an  heathen  prince,  to  promote  the  building  of 
a  second  temple  !  How  was  the  work  undertook  and  carried 
on  amidst  all  the  unlikelihoods  and  discouraging  circum 
stances  imaginable !  The  builders  holding  the  sword  in  one 
hand,  to  defend  the  trowel  working  with  the  other ;  yet  fin 
ished  and  completed  it  was,  under  the  conduct  and  protection 

VOL.  I.  9 


130  God's  Peculiar  Regard  to  Places  [SERM.  vii. 

of  a  peculiar  providence,  that  made  the  instruments  of  that 
great  design  prevalent  and  victorious,  and  all  those  moun 
tains  of  opposition  to  hecome  plains  before  Zorobabel. 

And  lastly,  when  Herod  the  Great,  whose  magnificence 
served  him  instead  of  piety  to  prompt  him  to  an  action,  if 
not  in  him  religious,  yet  heroic  at  least,  thought  fit  to  pull 
down  that  temple,  and  to  build  one  much  more  glorious,  and 
fit  for  the  Saviour  of  the  world  to  appear  and  preach  in. 
Josephus,  in  his  15th  book  of  the  Jewish  Antiquities,  and  the 
14th  chapter,  says,  that  during  all  the  time  of  its  building, 
there  fell  not  so  much  as  a  shower  to  interrupt  the  work, 
but  the  rain  still  fell  by  night,  that  it  might  not  retard  the 
business  of  the  day.  If  this  were  so,  I  am  not  of  the  number 
of  those  who  can  ascribe  such  great  and  strange  passages  to 
chance,  or  satisfy  my  reason  in  assigning  any  other  cause 
of  this,  but  the  kindness  of  God  himself  to  the  place  of  his 
worship ;  making  the  common  influences  of  heaven  to  stop 
their  course,  and  pay  a  kind  of  homage  to  the  rearing  of  so 
sacred  a  structure.  Though  I  must  confess,  that  David's 
being  prohibited,  and  Herod  permitted  to  build  God  a  temple 
might  seem  strange,  did  not  the  absoluteness  of  God's  good 
pleasure  satisfy  all  sober  minds  of  the  reasonableness  of  God's 
proceedings,  though  never  so  strange  and  unaccountable. 

Add  to  all  this,  that  the  extraordinary  manifestations  of 
God's  presence  were  still  in  the  sanctuary:  the  cloud,  the 
Urim  and  Thummim,  and  the  oracular  answers  of  God,  were 
graces  and  prerogatives  proper  and  peculiar  to  the  sacredness 
of  this  place.  These  were  the  dignities  that  made  it,  as  it 
were,  the  presence-chamber  of  the  Almighty,  the  room  of 
audience,  where  he  declared  that  he  would  receive  and 
answer  petitions  from  all  places  under  heaven,  and  where  he 
displayed  his  royalty  and  glory.  There  was  no  parlor  or 
dining-room  in  all  the  dwellings  of  Jacob,  that  he  vouchsafed 
the  like  privileges  to.  And  moreover,  how  full  are  God's  ex 
pressions  to  this  purpose  !  Here  have  I  placed  my  name,  and 
here  will  I  dwell,  for  I  have  a  delight  therein. 

But  to  evidence,  how  different  a  respect  God  bears  to 
things  consecrated  to  his  own  worship,  from  what  he  bears 
to  all  other  things,  let  that  one  eminent  passage  of  Corah, 
Dathan,  and  Abiram,  be  proof  beyond  all  exception ;  in 


PS.  ixxxvii.  2.]          set  apart  for  Divine  Worship.  131 

which  the  censers  of  those  wretches,  who,  I  am  sure,  could 
derive  no  sanctity  to  them  from  their  own  persons,  yet  upon 
this  account,  that  they  had  been  consecrated  by  the  offering 
incense  in  them,  were,  by  God's  special  command,  seques 
tered  from  all  common  use,  and  appointed  to  be  beaten  into 
broad  plates,  and  fastened  as  a  covering  upon  the  altar, 
Numb.  xvi.  38.  The  censers  of  these  sinners  against  their  own 
souls,  let  them  make  broad  plates  for  a  covering  of  the  altar  :  for 
tliey  offered  them  before  the  Lord,  therefore  they  are  hallowed. 
It  seems  this  one  single  use  left  such  an  indelible  sacredness 
upon  them,  that  neither  the  villainy  of  the  persons,  nor  the 
impiety  of  the  design,  could  be  a  sufficient  reason  to  unhallow 
and  degrade  them  to  the  same  common  use  that  other  vessels 
may  be  applied  to.  And  the  argument  holds  equally  good 
for  the  consecration  of  places.  The  apostle  would  have  no 
reveling,  or  junketing  upon  the  altar,  which  had  been  used, 
and  by  that  use  consecrated  to  the  celebration  of  a  more 
spiritual  and  divine  repast.  Have  ye  not  houses  to  eat  and  to 
drink  in  ?  or  despise  ye  the  church  of  God  ?  says  St.  Paul,  1 
Cor.  xi.  22.  It  would  have  been  no  answer  to  have  told  the 
apostle,  What !  is  not  the  church  stone  and  wood  as  well  as 
other  buildings  ?  And  is  there  any  such  peculiar  sanctity  in 
this  parcel  of  brick  and  mortar  ?  And  must  God,  who  has 
declared  himself  no  respecter  of  persons,  be  now  made  a  re 
specter  of  places  ?  No,  this  is  the  language  of  a  more  spirit 
ualized  and  refined  piety  than  the  apostles  and  primitive 
Christians  were  acquainted  with.  And  thus  much  for  the 
first  argument,  brought  to  prove  the  different  respect  that 
God  bears  to  things  and  places  consecrated  and  set  apart  to 
his  own  worship,  from  what  he  bears  to  others. 

2.  The  second  argument,  for  the  proof  of  the  same  asser 
tion,  shall  be  taken  from  those  remarkable  judgments  shown 
by  God,  upon  the  violators  of  things  consecrated  and  set  apart 
to  holy  uses. 

A  coal,  we  know,  snatched  from  the  altar  once  fired  the 
nest  of  the  eagle,  the  royal  and  commanding  bird ;  and  so 
has  sacrilege  consumed  the  families  of  princes,  broke  scep 
tres,  and  destroyed  kingdoms.  We  read  how  the  victorious 
Philistines  were  worsted  by  the  captivated  ark,  which  for 
aged  their  country  more  than  a  conquering  army ;  they  were 


132  God's  Peculiar  Regard  to  Places  [SERM.  vn. 

not  able  to  cohabit  with  that  holy  thing ;  it  was  like  a  plague 
in  their  bowels,  and  a  curse  in  the  midst  of  them ;  so  that 
they  were  forced  to  restore  their  prey,  and  to  turn  their  tri 
umphs  into  supplications.  Poor  Uzzah  for  but  touching  the 
ark,  though  out  of  care  and  zeal  for  its  preservation,  was 
struck  dead  with  a  blow  from  heaven.  He  had  no  right  to 
touch  it,  and  therefore  his  very  zeal  was  a  sin,  and  his  care 
an  usurpation  ;  nor  could  the  purpose  of  his  heart  excuse  the 
error  of  his  hand.  Nay,  in  the  promulgation  of  the  Mosaic 
law,  if  so  much  as  a  brute  beast  touched  the  mountain,  the 
bow  of  vengeance  was  ready,  and  it  was  to  be  struck  through 
with  a  dart,  and  to  die  a  sacrifice  for  a  fault  it  could  not  un 
derstand. 

But  to  give  some  higher  and  clearer  instances  of  the  di 
vine  judgments  upon  sacrilegious  persons.  In  1  Kings  xiv. 
26.  we  find  Shishak  king  of  Egypt  spoiling  and  robbing  Solo 
mon's  temple ;  and  that  we  may  know  what  became  of  him, 
we  must  take  notice  that  Josephus  calls  him  Susac,  and  tells 
us  that  Herodotus  calls  him  Sesostris ;  and  withal  reports, 
that  immediately  after  his  return  from  this  very  expedition, 
such  disastrous  calamities  befell  his  family,  that  he  burnt 
two  of  his  children  himself;  that  his  brother  conspired  against 
him ;  and  lastly,  that  his  son,  who  succeeded  him,  was  struck 
blind,  yet  not  so  blind  (in  his  understanding  at  least)  but  that 
he  saw  the  cause  of  all  these  mischiefs ;  and  therefore,  to  re 
deem  his  father's  sacrilege,  gave  more  and  richer  things  to 
temples  than  his  father  had  stolen  from  them :  though,  by 
the  way,  it  may  seem  to  be  a  strange  method  of  repairing  an 
injury  done  to  the  true  God,  by  adorning  the  temples  of  the 
false.  See  the  same  sad  effect  of  sacrilege  in  the  great 
Nebuchadnezzar:  he  plunders  the  temple  of  God,  and  we 
find  the  fatal  doom  that  afterwards  befell  him ;  he  lost  his 
kingdom,  and  by  a  new  unheard-of  judgment  was  driven 
from  the  society  and  converse  of  men,  to  table  with  the 
beasts,  and  to  graze  with  oxen  ;  the  impiety  and  inhumanity 
of  his  sin  making  him  a  fitter  companion  for  them  than  for 
those  to  whom  religion  is  more  natural  than  reason  itself. 
And  since  it  was  his  unhappiness  to  transmit  his  sin,  together 
with  his  kingdom,  to  his  son,  while  Belshazzar  was  quaffing 
in  the  sacred  vessels  of  the  temple,  which  in  his  pride  he 


Ps.  ixxxvii.  2.]         set  apart  for  Divine  Worship.  133 

sent  for  to  abuse  with  his  impious  sensuality,  he  sees  his  fatal 
sentence  writ  by  the  finger  of  God  in  the  very  midst  of  his 
profane  mirth.  And  he  stays  not  long  for  the  execution  of 
it,  that  very  night  losing  his  kingdom  and  his  life  too.  And 
that  which  makes  the  story  direct  for  our  purpose  is,  that  all 
this  conies  upon  him  for  profaning  those  sacred  vessels.  God 
himself  tells  us  so  much  by  the  mouth  of  his  prophet  in  Dan. 
v.  23,  where  this  only  sin  is  charged  upon  him,  and  particu 
larly  made  the  cause  of  his  sudden  and  utter  ruin. 

These  were  violators  of  the  first  temple,  and  those  that 
profaned  and  abused  the  second  sped  no  better.  And  for 
this,  take  for  instance  that  first-born  of  sin  and  sacrilege, 
Antiochus ;  the  story  of  whose  profaning  God's  house  you 
may  read  in  the  first  book  of  Maccabees,  chap.  i.  And  you 
may  read  also  at  large  what  success  he  found  after  it,  in 
the  sixth  chapter,  where  the  author  tells  us,  that  he  never 
prospered  afterwards  in  any  thing,  but  all  his  designs  were 
frustrated,  his  captains  slain,  his  armies  defeated  ;  and  lastly, 
himself  falls  sick,  and  dies  a  miserable  death.  And  (which 
is  most  considerable  as  to  the  present  business)  when  all 
these  evils  befell  him,  his  own  conscience  tells  him  that  it 
was  even  for  this,  that  he  had  most  sacrilegiously  pillaged 
and  invaded  God's  house,  1  Maccab.  vi.  12, 13.  Now  I  remem 
ber,  says  he,  the  evils  I  did  at  Jerusalem,  how  I  took  the  vessels 
of  gold  and  silver :  I  perceive  therefore,  that  for  this  cause 
these  evils  are  come  upon  me,  and,  behold,  I  perish  for  grief  in 
a  strange  land.  The  sinner's  conscience  is  for  the  most  part 
the  best  expositor  of  the  mind  of  God,  under  any  judgment 
or  affliction. 

Take  another  notable  instance  in  Nicanor,  who  purposed 
and  threatened  to  burn  the  temple,  1  Maccab.  vii.  35.  And  a 
curse  lights  upon  him  presently  after :  his  great  army  is  ut 
terly  ruined,  he  himself  slain  in  it,  and  his  head  and  right 
hand  cut  off,  and  hung  up  before  Jerusalem.  Where  two 
things  are  remarkable  in  the  text :  1.  That  he  himself  was 
first  slain,  a  thing  that  does  not  usually  befall  a  general  of 
an  army.  2.  That  the  Jews  prayed  against  him  to  God,  and 
desired  God  to  destroy  Mcanor,  for  the  injury  done  to  his 
sanctuary  only,  naming  no  sin  else.  And  God  ratified  their 
prayers  by  the  judgment  they  brought  down  upon  the  head 


134  God's  Peculiar  Regard  to  Places  [SERM.  vn. 

of  him  whom  they  prayed  against.  God  stopped  his  blas 
phemous  mouth,  and  cut  off  his  sacrilegious  hand,  and  made 
them  teach  the  world  what  it  was  for  the  most  potent  sinner 
under  heaven  to  threaten  the  almighty  God,  especially  in  his 
own  house ;  for  so  was  the  temple. 

But  now,  lest  some  should  puff  at  these  instances,  as  being 
such  as  were  under  a  different  economy  of  religion,  in  which 
God  was  more  tender  of  the  shell  and  ceremonious  part  of 
his  worship,  and  consequently  not  directly  pertinent  to  ours ; 
therefore  to  show  that  all  profanation,  and  invasion  of  things 
sacred,  is  an  offense  against  the  eternal  law  of  nature,  and  not 
against  any  positive  institution  after  a  time  to  expire,  we  need 
not  go  many  nations  off,  nor  many  ages  back,  to  see  the^ 
vengeance  of  God  upon  some  families,  raised  upon  the  ruins 
of  churches,  and  enriched  with  the  spoils  of  sacrilege,  gilded 
with  the  name  of  reformation.  And  for  the  most  part,  so 
unhappy  have  been  the  purchasers  of  church  lands,  that  the 
world  is  not  now  to  seek  for  an  argument  from  a  long  experi 
ence  to  convince  it,  that  though  in  such  purchases  men  have 
usually  the  cheapest  pennyworths,  yet  they  have  not  always 
the  best  bargains.  For  the  holy  thing  has  stuck  fast  to  their 
sides  like  a  fatal  shaft,  and  the  stone  has  cried  out  of  the 
consecrated  walls  they  have  lived  within,  for  a  judgment 
upon  the  head  of  the  sacrilegious  intruder ;  and  Heaven  has 
heard  the  cry,  and  made  good  the  curse.  So  that  when  the 
heir  of  a  blasted  family  has  rose  up  and  promised  fair,  and 
perhaps  flourished  for  some  time  upon  the  stock  of  excellent 
parts  and  great  favor,  yet  at  length  a  cross  event  has  cer 
tainly  met  and  stopped  him  in  the  career  of  his  fortunes ;  so 
that  he  has  ever  after  withered  and  declined,  and  in  the  end 
come  to  nothing,  or  to  that  which  is  worse.  So  certainly 
does  that,  which  some  call  blind  superstition,  take  aim  when 
it  shoots  a  curse  at  the  sacrilegious  person.  But  I  shall  not 
engage  in  the  odious  task  of  recounting  the  families  which 
this  sin  has  blasted  with  a  curse.  Only,  I  shall  give  one 
eminent  instance  in  some  persons  who  had  sacrilegiously 
procured  the  demolishing  of  some  places  consecrated  to  holy 
uses. 

And  for  this  (to  show  the  world  that  Papists  can  commit 
sacrilege  as  freely  as  they  can  object  it  to  Protestants)  it  shall 


PS.  ixxxvii.  2.]         set  apart  for  Divine  Worship.  135 

be  in  that  great  cardinal  and  minister  of  state,  Wolsey,  who 
obtained  leave  of  pope  Clement  the  seventh  to  demolish  forty 
religious  houses ;  which  he  did  by  the  service  of  five  men,  to 
whose  conduct  he  committed  the  effecting  of  that  business ; 
every  one  of  which  came  to  a  sad  and  fatal  end.  For  the 
pope  himself  was  ever  after  an  unfortunate  prince,  Rome 
being  twice  taken  and  sacked  in  his  reign,  himself  taken 
prisoner,  and  at  length  dying  a  miserable  death.  Wolsey  (as 
is  known)  incurred  a  premunire,  forfeited  his  honor,  estate, 
and  life,  which  he  ended,  some  say,  by  poison,  but  certainly 
in  great  calamity. 

And  for  the  five  men  employed  by  him,  two  of  them  quar 
reled,  one  of  which  was  slain,  and  the  other  hanged  for  it ; 
the  third  drowned  himself  in  a  well ;  the  fourth  (though  rich) 
came  at  length  to  beg  his  bread ;  and  the  fifth  was  miserably 
stabbed  to  death  at  Dublin  in  Ireland. 

This  was  the  tragical  end  of  a  knot  of  sacrilegious  persons 
from  highest  to  lowest.  The  consideration  of  which  and  the 
like  passages,  one  would  think,  should  make  men  keep  their 
fingers  off  from  the  church's  patrimony,  though  not  out  of 
love  to  the  church,  (which  few  men  have,)  yet  at  least  out  of 
love  to  themselves,  which,  I  suppose,  few  want. 

Nor  is  that  instance  in  one  of  another  religion  to  be  passed 
over,  (so  near  it  is  to  the  former  passage  of  Meaner,)  of  a 
commander  in  the  parliament's  rebel  army,  who,  coming  to 
rifle  and  deface  the  cathedral  at  Litchfield,  solemnly  at  the 
head  of  his  troops  begged  of  God  to  show  some  remarkable 
token  of  his  approbation  or  dislike  of  the  work  they  were 
going  about.  Immediately  after  which,  looking  out  at  a 
window,  he  was  shot  in  the  forehead  by  a  deaf  and  dumb  man. 
And  this  was  on  St.  Chadd's  day,  the  name  of  which  saint 
that  church  bore,  being  dedicated  to  God  in  memory  of  the 
same.  Where  we  see,  that  as  he  asked  of  God  a  sign,  so 
God  gave  him  one,  signing  him  in  the  forehead,  and  that  with 
such  a  mark  as  he  is  like  to  be  known  by  to  all  posterity. 

There  is  nothing  that  the  united  voice  of  all  history  pro 
claims  so  loud  as  the  certain  unfailing  curse  that  has  pursued 
and  overtook  sacrilege.  Make  a  catalogue  of  all  the  prosper 
ous  sacrilegious  persons  that  have  been  from  the  beginning 
of  the  world  to  this  day,  and  I  believe  they  will  come  within 


136  God's  Peculiar  Regard  to  Places  [SERM.  vii. 

a  very  narrow  compass,  and  be  repeated  much  sooner  than 
the  alphabet. 

Religion  claims  a  great  interest  in  the  world,  even  as  great 
as  its  object,  God,  and  the  souls  of  men.  And  since  God  has 
resolved  not  to  alter  the  course  of  nature,  and  upon  principles 
of  nature,  religion  will  scarce  be  supported  without  the  en 
couragement  of  the  ministers  of  it ;  Providence,  where  it 
loves  a  nation,  concerns  itself  to  own  and  assert  the  interest 
of  religion,  by  blasting  the  spoilers  of  religious  persons  and 
places.  Many  have  gaped  at  the  church  revenues,  but,  before 
they  could  swallow  them,  have  had  their  mouths  stopt  in  the 
churchyard. 

And  thus  much  for  the  second  argument,  to  prove  the  dif 
ferent  respect  that  God  bears  to  things  consecrated  to  holy 
uses  ;  namely,  his  signal  judgments  upon  the  sacrilegious 
violators  of  them. 

3.  I  descend  now  to  the  third  and  last  thing  proposed 
for  the  proof  of  the  first  proposition,  which  is,  to  assign  the 
ground  and  reason  why  God  shows  such  a  concern  for  these 
things.  Touching  which  we  are  to  observe,  (1.)  Negatively, 
that  it  is  no  worth  or  sanctity  naturally  inherent  in  the  things 
themselves,  that  either  does  or  can  procure  them  this  esteem 
from  God ;  for  by  nature  all  things  have  an  equally  common 
use.  Nature  freely  and  indifferently  opens  the  bosom  of  the 
universe  to  all  mankind ;  and  the  very  sanctum  sanctorum  had 
originally  no  more  sacredness  in  it  than  the  valley  of  the  son 
of  Hinnom,  or  any  other  place  in  Judaea.  (2.)  Positively, 
therefore,  the  sole  ground  and  reason  of  this  different  esteem 
vouchsafed  by  God  to  consecrated  things  and  places,  is  this, 
that  he  has  the  sole  property  of  them. 

It  is  a  known  maxim,  that  in  Deo  sunt  jura  omnia  ;  and, 
consequently,  that  he  is  the  proprietor  of  all  things,  by  that 
grand  and  transcendent  right  founded  upon  creation.  Yet 
notwithstanding  he  may  be  said  to  have  a  greater,  because  a 
sole  property  in  some  things,  for  that  he  permits  not  the  use 
of  them  to  men,  to  whom  yet  he  has  granted  the  free  use  of 
all  other  things.  Now  this  property  may  be  founded  upon  a 
double  ground. 

First,  God's  own  fixing  upon,  and  institution  of,  a  place  or 
thing  to  his  peculiar  use.  When  he  shall  say  to  the  sous  of 


Ps.  ixxxvii.  2.]         set  apart  for  Divine  Worship.  137 

men,  as  he  spoke  to  Adam  concerning-  the  forbidden  fruit,  Of 
all  things  and  places  that  I  have  enriched  the  universe  with, 
you  may  freely  make  use  for  your  own  occasions ;  but  as  for 
this  spot  of  ground,  this  person,  this  thing,  I  have  selected 
and  appropriated,  I  have  enclosed  it  to  myself  and  my  own 
use ;  and  I  will  endure  no  sharer,  no  rival,  or  companion  in 
it :  he  that  invades  them,  usurps,  and  shall  bear  the  guilt  of 
his  usurpation.  Now,  upon  this  account,  the  gates  of  Sion, 
and  the  tribe  of  Levi,  became  God's  property.  He  laid  his 
hand  upon  them,  and  said,  These  are  mine. 

Secondly,  The  other  ground  of  God's  sole  property  in  any 
thing  or  place,  is  the  gift,  or  rather  the  return  of  it  made 
by  man  to  God;  by  which  act  he  relinquishes  and  delivers 
back  to  God  all  his  right  to  the  use  of  that  thing,  which 
before  had  been  freely  granted  him  by  God.  After  which 
donation  there  is  an  absolute  change  and  alienation  made 
of  the  property  of  the  thing  given,  and  that  as  to  the  use  of 
it  too ;  which  being  so  alienated,  a  man  has  no  more  to  do 
with  it  than  with  a  thing  bought  with  another's  money,  or 
got  with  the  sweat  of  another's  brow. 

And  this  is  the  ground  of  God's  sole  property  in  things, 
persons,  and  places,  now  under  the  gospel.  Men  by  free 
gift  consign  over  a  place  to  the  divine  worship,  and  thereby 
have  no  more  right  to  apply  it  to  another  use  than  they  have 
to  make  use  of  another  man's  goods.  He  that  has  devoted 
himself  to  the  service  of  God  in  the  Christian  priesthood,  has 
given  himself  to  God,  and  so  can  no  more  dispose  of  himself 
to  another  employment  than  he  can  dispose  of  a  thing  that 
he  has  sold  or  freely  given  away.  Now  in  passing  a  thing 
away  to  another  by  deed  of  gift,  two  things  are  required  : 

1.  A  surrender,  on  the  giver's  part,  of  all  the  property  and 
right  he  has  in  the  thing  given.  And  to  the  making  of  a 
thing  or  place  sacred,  this  surrender  of  it,  by  its  right  owner, 
is  so  necessary,  that  all  the  rites  of  consecration  used  upon 
a  place  against  the  owner's  will,  and  without  his  giving  up 
his  property,  make  not  that  place  sacred,  forasmuch  as  the 
property  of  it  is  not  hereby  altered ;  and  therefore  says  the 
canonist,  Qui  sine  voluntate  Domini  consecrat,  revera  desecrat. 
The  like  judgment  passed  that  learned  Bishop  Synesius  upon 
a  place  so  consecrated.  O£8'  lepov  ovfe  ptv  oo-iov  ^yov/xat.  J 
account  it  not,  says  he,  for  any  holy  thing. 


138  God's  Peculiar  Eegard  to  Places  [SEEM.  VIL 

For  we  must  know,  that  consecration  makes  not  a  place 
sacred,  any  more  than  coronation  makes  a  king,  but  only 
solemnly  declares  it  so.  It  is  the  gift  of  the  owner  of  it  to 
God,  which  makes  it  to  be  solely  God's,  and  consequently 
sacred ;  after  which,  every  violation  of  it  is  as  really  sacrilege 
as  to  conspire  against  the  king  is  treason  before  the  solemnity 
of  his  coronation.  And  moreover,  as  consecration  makes  not 
a  thing  sacred  without  the  owner's  gift,  so  the  owner's  gift 
of  itself  alone  makes  a  thing  sacred,  without  the  ceremonies 
of  consecration ;  for  we  know  that  tithes  and  lands  given  to 
God  are  never,  and  plate,  vestments,  and  other  sacred  uten 
sils  are  seldom  consecrated :  yet  certain  it  is,  that  after  the 
donation  of  them  to  the  church,  it  is  as  really  sacrilege  to 
steal  or  alienate  them  from  those  sacred  uses,  to  which  they 
were  dedicated  by  the  donors,  as  it  is  to  pull  down  a  church, 
or  turn  it  into  a  stable. 

2.  As,  in  order  to  the  passing  away  a  thing  by  gift,  there 
is  required  a  surrender  of  all  right  to  it  on  his  part  that 
gives,  so  there  is  required  also  an  acceptation  of  it  on  his  part 
to  whom  it  is  given.  For  giving  being  a  relative  action, 
(and  so  requiring  a  correlative  to  answer  it),  giving  on  one 
part  transfers  no  property,  unless  there  be  an  accepting  on 
the  other ;  for  as  volenti  non  fit  injuria,  so  in  this  case  nolenti 
nonfit  beneficium. 

And  if  it  be  now  asked,  how  God  can  be  said  to  accept 
what  we  give,  since  we  are  not  able  to  transact  with  him  in 
person?  To  this  I  answer,  1.  That  we  may  and  do  converse 
with  God  in  person  really,  and  to  all  the  purposes  of  giving 
and  receiving,  though  not  visibly :  for  natural  reason  will 
evince  that  God  will  receive  testimonies  of  honor  from  his 
creatures ;  amongst  which  the  homage  of  offerings,  and  the 
parting  with  a  right,  is  a  very  great  one.  And  where  a  gift 
is  suitable  to  the  person  to  whom  it  is  offered,  and  no  refusal 
of  it  testified,  silence  in  that  case  (even  amongst  those 
who  transact  visibly  and  corporally  with  one  another)  is,  by 
the  general  voice  of  reason,  reputed  an  acceptance.  And 
therefore  much  more  ought  we  to  conclude  that  God  accepts 
of  a  thing  suitable  for  him  to  receive,  and  for  us  to  give, 
where  he  does  not  declare  his  refusal  and  disallowance  of  it. 
But,  2.  I  add  further,  that  we  may  transact  with  God  in  the 


PS.  ixxxvii.  2.]         set  apart  for  Divine  Worship.  139 

person  of  his  and  Christ's  substitute,  the  bishop,  to  whom 
the  deed  of  gift  ought,  and  uses  to  be  delivered  by  the  owner 
of  the  thing  given,  in  a  formal  instrument  signed,  sealed, 
and  legally  attested  by  witnesses,  wherein  he  resigns  up  all 
his  right  and  property  in  the  thing  to  be  consecrated.  And 
the  bishop  is  as  really  vicarius  Christi  to  receive  this  from  us 
in  Christ's  behalf,  as  the  Levitical  priest  was  vicarius  Dei  to 
the  Jews,  to  manage  all  transactions  between  God  and  them. 

These  two  things  therefore  concurring,  the  gift  of  the 
owner,  and  God's  acceptance  of  it,  either  immediately  by 
himself,  which  we  rationally  presume,  or  mediately  by  the 
hands  of  the  bishop,  which  is  visibly  done  before  us,  is  that 
which  vests  the  sole  property  of  a  thing  or  place  in  God.  If 
it  be  now  asked,  Of  what  use  then  is  consecration,  if  a  thing 
were  sacred  before  it  ?  I  answer,  Of  very  much ;  even  as 
much  as  coronation  to  a  king,  which  confers  no  royal  author 
ity  upon  him,  but  by  so  solemn  a  declaration  of  it  imprints 
a  deeper  awe  and  reverence  of  it  in  the  people's  minds,  a 
thing  surely  of  no  small  moment.  And,  2.  The  bishop's 
solemn  benediction  and  prayers  to  God  for  a  blessing  upon 
those  who  shall  seek  him  in  such  sacred  places,  can  not  but 
be  supposed  a  direct  and  most  effectual  means  to  procure  a 
blessing  from  God  upon  those  persons  who  shall  address 
themselves  to  him  there,  as  they  ought  to  do.  And  surely, 
this  also  vouches  the  great  reason  of  the  episcopal  consecra 
tion.  Add  to  this,  in  the  third  place,  that  all  who  ever  had 
any  awful  sense  of  religion  and  religious  matters  (whether 
Jews  or  Christians,  or  even  heathens  themselves)  have  ever 
used  solemn  dedications  and  consecrations  of  things  set 
apart,  and  designed  for  divine  worship;  which  surely  could 
never  have  been  so  universally  practiced,  had  not  right  reason 
dictated  the  high  expediency  and  great  use  of  such  practices. 

Eusebius,  (the  earliest  church-historian,)  in  the  tenth  book 
of  his  "  Ecclesiastical  History,"  as  also  in  the  "  Life  of  Constan- 
tine,"  speaks  of  these  consecrations  of  churches  as  of  things 
generally  in  use,  and  withal  sets  down  those  actions  partic 
ularly,  of  which  they  consisted,  styling  them  ©eoTrpeTras,  €KK\-T)- 
o-i'as  frto//,ous,  laws  or  customs  of  the  church  becoming  God. 
What  the  Greek  and  Latin  churches  used  to  do,  may  be  seen 
in  their  pontificals,  containing  the  set  forms  for  these  conse- 


140  God's  Peculiar  Regard  to  Places          [SERM.  VIL 

crations ;  though  indeed  (for  these  six  or  seven  last  cen 
turies)  full  of  many  tedious,  superfluous,  and  ridiculous  fop 
peries  ;  setting-  aside  all  which,  if  also  our  liturgy  had  a  set 
form  for  the  consecration  of  places,  as  it  has  of  persons, 
perhaps  it  would  be  nevertheless  perfect.  Now  from  what 
has  been  above  discoursed  of  the  ground  of  God's  sole  prop 
erty  in  things  set  apart  for  his  service,  we  come  at  length 
to  see  how  all  things  given  to  the  church,  whether  houses, 
or  lands,  or  tithes,  belong  to  churchmen.  They  are  but 
usufructuarii,  and  have  only  the  use  of  these  things,  the 
property  and  fee  remaining  wholly  in  God  ;  and  consequently 
the  alienating  of  them  is  a  robbing  of  God,  Mai.  iii.  8,  9. 
Ye  are  cursed  with  a  curse,  for  ye  have  robbed  me,  even  this 
whole  nation,  in  tythes  and  offerings.  If  it  was  God  that  was 
robbed,  it  was  God  also  that  was  the  owner  of  what  was  took 
away  in  the  robbery:  even  our  own  common  law  speaks  as 
much;  for  so  says  our  Magna  Charta,  in  the  first  chapter, 
Concessimus  Deo  —  quod  ecclesia  Anglicana  libera  erit,  &c.  Upon 
which  words,  that  great  lawyer  in  his  "  Institutes  "  comments 
thus:  When  any  thing  is  granted  for  God,  it  is  deemed  in 
law  to  be  granted  to  God ;  and  whatsoever  is  granted  to  the 
church  for  his  honor,  and  the  maintenance  of  his  service,  is 
granted  for  and  to  God. 

The  same  also  appears  from  those  forms  of  expression  in 
which  the  donation  of  sacred  things  usually  ran.  As  Deo 
omnipotenti  hoc  prcesente  charta  donavimus,  with  the  like.  But 
most  undeniably  is  this  proved  by  this  one  argument :  That 
in  case  a  bishop  should  commit  treason  or  felony,  and  thereby 
forfeit  his  estate  with  his  life,  yet  the  lands  of  his  bishopric 
become  not  forfeit,  but  remain  still  in  the  church,  and  pass 
entire  to  his  successor;  which  sufficiently  shows  that  they 
were  none  of  his. 

It  being  therefore  thus  proved  that  God  is  the  sole  pro 
prietor  of  all  sacred  things  or  places,  I  suppose  his  peculiar 
property  in  them  is  an  abundantly  pregnant  reason  of  that 
different  respect  that  he  bears  to  them.  For  is  not  the  meum, 
and  the  separate  property  of  a  thing,  the  great  cause  of  its 
endearment  amongst  all  mankind  ?  Does  any  one  respect  a 
common  as  much  as  he  does  his  garden?  or  the  gold  that 
lies  in  the  bowels  of  a  mine  as  much  as  that  which  he  has  in 
his  purse  ? 


PS.  ixxxvii.  2.]          set  apart  for  Divine  Worship.  141 

I  have  now  finished  the  first  proposition  drawn  from  the 
words ;  namely,  that  God  bears  a  different  respect  to  places 
set  apart  and  consecrated  to  his  worship,  from  what  he  bears 
to  all  other  places  designed  to  the  uses  of  common  life : 
and  also  shown  the  reason  why  he  does  so.  I  proceed  now 
to  the  other  proposition,  which  is,  That  God  prefers  the  wor 
ship  paid  him  in  such  places,  above  that  which  is  offered 
him  in  any  other  places  whatsoever.  And  that  for  these 
reasons  : 

1.  Because  such  places  are  naturally  apt  to  excite  a  greater 
reverence  and  devotion  in  the  discharge  of  divine  service, 
than  places  of  common  use.  The  place  properly  reminds  a 
man  of  the  business  of  the  place,  and  strikes  a  kind  of  awe 
into  the  thoughts,  when  they  reflect  upon  that  great  and  sa 
cred  Majesty  they  use  to  treat  and  converse  with  there.  They 
find  the  same  holy  consternation  upon  themselves  that  Jacob 
did  at  his  consecrated  Bethel,  which  he  called  the  gate  of 
heaven  ;  and  if  such  places  are  so,  then  surely  a  daily  expec 
tation  at  the  gate  is  the  readiest  way  to  gain  admittance  into 
the  house. 

It  has  been  the  advice  of  some  spiritual  persons,  that  such 
as  were  able  should  set  apart  some  certain  place  in  their 
dwellings  for  private  devotions  only,  which  if  they  constantly 
performed  there,  and  nothing  else,  their  very  entrance  into  it 
would  tell  them  what  they  were  to  do  in  it,  and  quickly  make 
their  chamber-thoughts,  their  table-thoughts,  and  their  jolly, 
worldly,  but  much  more  their  sinful  thoughts  and  purposes, 
fly  out  of  their  hearts. 

For  is  there  any  man  (whose  heart  has  not  shook  off  all 
sense  of  what  is  sacred)  who  finds  himself  no  otherwise  af 
fected,  when  he  enters  into  a  church,  than  when  he  enters 
into  his  parlor  or  chamber?  If  he  does,  for  aught  I  know, 
he  is  fitter  to  be  there  always  than  in  a  church. 

The  mind  of  man,  even  in  spirituals,  acts  with  a  corporeal 
dependence,  and  so  is  helped  or  hindered  in  its  operations, 
according  to  the  different  quality  of  external  objects  that 
incur  into  the  senses.  And  perhaps  sometimes  the  sight  of 
the  altar,  and  those  decent  preparations  for  the  work  of  de 
votion,  may  compose  and  recover  the  wandering  mind  much 
more  effectually  than  a  sermon,  or  a  rational  discourse.  For 


142  God's  Peculiar  Regard  to  Places          [SBRM.VII. 

these  things  in  a  manner  preach  to  the  eye,  when  the  ear  is 
dull  and  will  not  hear,  and  the  eye  dictates  to  the  imagina 
tion,  and  that  at  last  moves  the  affections.  And  if  these 
little  impulses  set  the  great  wheels  of  devotion  on  work,  the 
largeness  and  height  of  that  shall  not  at  all  be  prejudiced  by 
the  smallness  of  its  occasion.  If  the  fire  burns  bright  and 
vigorously,  it  is  no  matter  by  what  means  it  was  at  first  kin 
dled  ;  there  is  the  same  force,  and  the  same  refreshing  virtue 
in  it,  kindled  by  a  spark  from  a  flint,  as  if  it  were  kindled  by 
a  beam  from  the  sun. 

I  am  far  from  thinking  that  these  external  things  are  either 
parts  of  our  devotion,  or  by  any  strength  in  themselves  direct 
causes  of  it ;  but  the  grace  of  God  is  pleased  to  move  us  by 
ways  suitable  to  our  nature,  and  to  sanctify  these  sensible 
inferior  helps  to  greater  and  higher  purposes.  And  since 
God  has  placed  the  soul  in  a  body,  where  it  receives  all  things 
by  the  ministry  of  the  outward  senses,  he  would  have  us 
secure  these  cinque  ports  (as  I  may  so  call  them)  against  the 
invasion  of  vain  thoughts,  by  suggesting  to  them  such  objects 
as  may  prepossess  them  with  the  contrary.  For  God  knows 
how  hard  a  lesson  devotion  is,  if  the  senses  prompt  one  thing 
when  the  heart  is  to  utter  another.  And  therefore  let  no 
man  presume  to  think  that  he  may  present  God  with  as  ac 
ceptable  a  prayer  in  his  shop,  and  much  less  in  an  alehouse 
or  a  tavern,  as  he  may  in  a  church  or  in  his  closet :  unless  he 
can  rationally  promise  himself  (which  is  impossible)  that  he 
shall  find  the  same  devout  motions  and  impresses  upon  his 
spirit  there  that  he  may  here. 

What  says  David,  in  Psalm  Ixxvii.  13.  Thy  way,  0  God,  is 
in  the  sanctuary.  It  is  no  doubt  but  that  holy  person  con 
tinued  a  strict  and  most  pious  communion  with  God  during 
his  wanderings  upon  the  mountains  and  in  the  wilderness ; 
but  still  he  found  in  himself  that  he  had  not  those  kindly, 
warm  meltings  upon  his  heart,  those  raptures  and  ravishing 
transports  of  affection,  that  he  used  to  have  in  the  fixed  and 
solemn  place  of  God's  worship.  See  the  two  first  verses  of 
the  63d  Psalm,  entitled,  A  psalm  of  David,  when  he  was  in  the 
wilderness  of  Judah.  How  emphatically  and  divinely  does 
every  word  proclaim  the  truth  that  I  have  been  speaking  of! 
0  God,  says  he,  thou  art  my  God ;  early  will  I  seek  thee :  my 


PS.  ixxxvii.  2.]         set  apart  for  Divine  Worship.  143 

soul  thirsteth  for  thee,  my  flesh  longeth  for  thee  in  a  dry  and 
thirsty  land,  where  no  water  is  ;  to  see  thy  power  and  thy  glory, 
so  as  I  have  seen  thee  in  the  sanctuary.  Much  different  was  his 
wish  from  that  of  our  nonconforming  zealots  nowadays,  which 
expresses  itself  in  another  kind  of  dialect ;  as,  When  shall  I 
enjoy  God  as  I  used  to  do  at  a  conventicle  ?  When  shall  I 
meet  with  those  hlessed  breathings,  those  heavenly  hummings 
and  hawings,  that  I  used  to  hear  at  a  private  meeting,  and 
at  the  end  of  a  table  P 

In  all  our  worshipings  of  God,  we  return  him  but  what 
he  first  gives  us  ;  and  therefore  he  prefers  the  service  offered 
him  in  the  sanctuary,  because  there  he  usually  vouchsafes 
more  helps  to  the  piously  disposed  person,  for  the  discharge 
of  it.  As  we  value  the  same  kind  of  fruit  growing  under  one 
climate  more  than  under  another ;  because  under  one  it  has 
a  directer  and  a  warmer  influence  from  the  sun  than  under 
the  other,  which  gives  it  both  a  better  savor  and  a  greater 
worth. 

And  perhaps  I  should  not  want  a  further  argument  for  the 
confirmation  of  the  truth  discoursed  of,  if  I  should  appeal  to 
the  experience  of  many  in  this  nation,  who,  having  been  long 
bred  to  the  decent  way  of  divine  service  in  the  cathedrals  of 
the  church  of  England,  were  afterwards  driven  into  foreign 
countries,  where,  though  they  brought  with  them  the  same 
sincerity  to  church,  yet  perhaps  they  could  not  find  the  same 
enlargements  and  Sowings  out  of  spirit  which  they  were  wont 
to  find  here.  Especially  in  some  countries,  where  their  very 
religion  smelt  of  the  shop;  and  their  ruder  and  coarser 
methods  of  divine  service  seemed  only  adapted  to  the  genius 
of  trade  and  the  designs  of  parsimony ;  though  one  would 
think  that  parsimony  in  God's  worship  were  the  worst  hus 
bandry  in  the  world,  for  fear  God  should  proportion  his  bless 
ings  to  such  devotions. 

2.  The  other  reason  why  God  prefers  a  worship  paid  him 
in  places  solemnly  dedicated  and  set  apart  for  that  purpose, 
is,  because  in  such  places  it  is  a  more  direct  service  and  testi 
fication  of  our  homage  to  him.  For  surely,  if  I  should  have 
something  to  ask  of  a  great  person,  it  were  greater  respect 
to  wait  upon  him  with  my  petition  at  his  own  house,  than  to 
desire  him  to  come  and  receive  it  at  mine. 


144  God's  Peculiar  Regard  to  Places  [SERM.  vn. 

Set  places  and  set  hours  for  divine  worship,  as  much  as  the 
laws  of  necessity  and  charity  permit  us  to  observe  them,  are 
but  parts  of  that  due  reverence  that  we  owe  it :  for  he  that  is 
strict  in  observing  these,  declares  to  the  world  that  he  ac 
counts  his  attendance  upon  God  his  greatest  and  most  im 
portant  business :  and  surely  it  is  infinitely  more  reasonable 
that  we  should  wait  upon  God  than  God  upon  us. 

We  shall  still  find,  that  when  God  was  pleased  to  vouch 
safe  his  people  a  meeting,  he  himself  would  prescribe  the 
place.  When  he  commanded  Abraham  to  sacrifice  his  only 
deand  beloved  Isaac,  the  place  of  the  offering  was  not  left  un- 
termined,  and  to  the  offerer's  discretion  :  but  in  Gen.  xxii.  2. 
Get  thee  into  the  land  of  Moriah,  (says  God  ;)  and  offer  him  for  a 
burnt-offering  upon  one  of  the  mountains  that  I  shall  tell  thee  of. 

It  was  part  of  his  sacrifice,  not  only  what  he  should  offer, 
but  where.  When  we  serve  God  in  his  own  house,  his  ser 
vice  (as  I  may  so  say)  leads  all  our  other  secular  affairs  in  tri 
umph  after  it.  They  are  all  made  to  stoop  and  bend  the  knee 
to  prayer,  as  that  does  to  the  throne  of  grace. 

Thrice  a  year  were  the  Israelites  from  all,  even  the  remotest 
parts  of  Palestine,  to  go  up  to  Jerusalem,  there  to  worship 
and  pay  their  offerings  at  the  temple.  The  great  distance 
of  some  places  from  thence  could  not  excuse  the  inhabitants 
from  making  their  appearance  there,  which  the  Mosaic  law 
exacted  as  indispensable. 

Whether  or  no  they  had  coaches,  to  the  temple  they  must 
go:  nor  could  it  excuse  them  to  plead  God's  omniscience, 
that  he  could  equally  see  and  hear  them  in  any  place :  nor 
yet  their  own  good  will  and  intentions ;  as  if  the  readiness  of 
their  mind  to  go,  might,  forsooth,  warrant  their  bodies  to  stay 
at  home.  Nor,  lastly,  could  the  real  danger  of  leaving  their 
dwellings  to  go  up  to  the  temple  excuse  their  journey :  for 
they  might  very  plausibly  and  very  rationally  have  alleged, 
that  during  their  absence  their  enemies  round  about  them 
might  take  that  advantage  to  invade  their  land.  And  there 
fore,  to  obviate  this  fear  and  exception,  which  indeed  was 
built  upon  so  good  ground,  God  makes  them  a  promise,  which 
certainly  is  as  remarkable  as  any  in  the  whole  book  of  God, 
Exod.  xxxiv.  24.  I  will  cast  out  the  nations  before  thee  ;  neither 
shall  any  man  desire  thy  land,  when  thou  shalt  go  up  to  appear 


PS.  ixxxvii.  2.]          set  apart  for  Divine  Worship.  145 

before  the  Lord  thy  God  thrice  in  a  year.  While  they  were 
appearing  in  God's  house,  God  himself  engages  to  keep  and 
defend  theirs,  and  that  by  little  less  than  a  miracle,  putting 
forth  an  overpowering  work  and  influence  upon  the  very 
hearts  and  wills  of  men,  that  when  their  opportunities  should 
induce,  their  hearts  should  not  serve  them  to  annoy  their 
neighbors. 

For  surely,  a  rich  land,  guardless  and  undefended,  must 
needs  have  been  a  double  incitement,  and  such  an  one  as 
might  not  only  admit,  but  even  invite  the  enemy.  It  was 
like  a  fruitful  garden  or  a  fair  vineyard  without  an  hedge,  that 
quickens  the  appetite  to  enjoy  so  tempting,  and  withal  so  easy 
a  prize.  But  the  great  God,  by  ruling  men's  hearts,  could 
by  consequence  hold  their  hands,  and  turn  the  very  desires 
of  interest  and  nature  out  of  their  common  channel,  to  com 
ply  with  the  designs  of  his  worship. 

But  now,  had  not  God  set  a  very  peculiar  value  upon  the 
service  paid  him  in  his  temple,  surely  he  would  not  have  thus, 
as  it  were,  made  himself  his  people's  convoy,  and  exerted 
a  supernatural  work  to  secure  them  in  their  passage  to  it. 
And  therefore  that  eminent  hero  in  religion,  Daniel,  when  in 
the  land  of  his  captivity  he  used  to  pay  his  daily  devotions  to 
God,  not  being  able  to  go  to  the  temple,  would  at  least  look 
towards  it,  advance  to  it  in  wish  and  desire,  and  so,  in  a 
manner,  bring  the  temple  to  his  prayers,  when  he  could  not 
bring  his  prayers  to  that. 

And  now,  what  have  I  to  do  more,  but  to  wish  that  all  this 
discourse  may  have  that  blessed  effect  upon  us,  as  to  send  us 
both  to  this  and  to  all  other  solemn  places  of  divine  worship 
with  those  three  excellent  ingredients  of  devotion,  —  desire, 
reverence,  and  confidence  ? 

1.  And  first,  for  desire.  We  should  come  hither,  as  to 
meet  God  in  a  place  where  he  loves  to  meet  us ;  and  where 
(as  Isaac  did  to  his  sons)  he  gives  us  blessings  with  embraces. 
Many  frequent  the  gates  of  Sion,  but  is  it  because  they  love 
them;  and  not  rather  because  their  interest  forces  them, 
much  against  their  inclination,  to  endure  them? 

Do  they  hasten  to  their  devotions  with  that  ardor  and 
quickness  of  mind  that  they  would  to  a  lewd  play  or  a  mas 
querade  ? 

VOL.  I.  10 


146         God's  Regard  to  Places  of  Divine  Worship.    [SEEM.  vii. 

Or  do  they  not  rather  come  hither  slowly,  sit  here  uneasily, 
and  depart  desirously  ?  All  which  is  but  too  evident  a  sign 
that  men  repair  to  the  house  of  God,  not  as  to  a  place  of 
fruition,  but  of  task  and  trouble,  not  to  enjoy,  but  to  afflict 
themselves. 

2.  We  should  come  full  of  reverence  to  such  sacred  places ; 
and  where  there  are  affections  of  reverence,  there  will  be 
postures  of  reverence  too.     Within  consecrated  walls  we  are 
more  directly  under  God's  eye,  who  looks  through  and  through 
every  one  that  appears  before  him,  and  is  too  jealous  a  God 
to  be  affronted  to  his  face. 

3.  And  lastly ;  God's  peculiar  property  in  such  places  should 
give  us  a  confidence  in  our  addresses  to  him  here.    Reverence 
and  confidence  are  so  far  from  being  inconsistent,  that  they 
are  the  most  direct  and  proper  qualifications  of  a  devout  and 
filial  approach  to  God. 

For  where  should  we  be  so  confident  of  a  blessing  as  in 
the  place  and  element  of  blessings ;  the  place  where  God 
both  promises  and  delights  to  dispense  larger  proportions  of 
his  favor,  even  for  this  purpose,  that  he  may  fix  a  mark  of 
honor  upon  his  sanctuary ;  and  so  recommend  and  endear  it 
to  the  sons  of  men,  upon  the  stock  of  their  own  interest  as 
well  as  his  glory ;  who  has  declared  himself  the  high  and  the 
lofty  One  that  inhabits  eternity,  and  dwells  not  in  houses  made 
with  men's  hands,  yet  is  pleased  to  be  present  in  the  assemblies  of 


To  whom  be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all 
praise,  might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for 
evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  VIII. 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  AT  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY, 
FEBRUARY  22,  1684-85. 


PROV.  xvi.  33. —  The  lot  is  cast  into  the  lap ;  but  the  whole  disposing  of  it  is  of  the 

Lord. 

I  CANNOT  think  myself  engaged  from  these  words  to  dis 
course  of  lots,  as  to  their  nature,  use,  and  allowableness ; 
and  that  not  only  in  matters  of  moment  and  business,  but 
also  of  recreation ;  which  latter  is  indeed  impugned  by  some, 
though  better  defended  by  others ;  but  I  shall  fix  only  upon 
the  design  of  the  words,  which  seems  to  be  a  declaration  of  a 
divine  perfection  by  a  signal  instance ;  a  proof  of  the  exact 
ness  and  universality  of  God's  providence  from  its  influence 
upon  a  thing,  of  all  others,  the  most  casual  and  fortuitous, 
such  as  is  the  casting  of  lots. 

A  lot  is  properly  a  casual  event,  purposely  applied  to  the 
determination  of  some  doubtful  thing. 

Some  there  are  who  utterly  proscribe  the  name  of  chance, 
as  a  word  of  impious  and  profane  signification ;  and  indeed, 
if  it  be  taken  by  us  in  that  sense  in  which  it  was  used  by  the 
heathen,  so  as  to  make  any  thing  casual  in  respect  of  God 
himself,  their  exception  ought  justly  to  be  admitted.  But  to 
say  a  thing  is  a  chance,  or  casualty,  as  it  relates  to  second 
causes,  is  not  profaneness,  but  a  great  truth ;  as  signifying 
no  more  than  that  there  are  some  events,  besides  the  knowl 
edge,  purpose,  expectation,  and  power  of  second  agents.  And 
for  this  very  reason,  because  they  are  so,  it  is  the  royal  pre 
rogative  of  God  himself,  to  have  all  these  loose,  uneven,  fickle 
uncertainties  under  his  disposal. 

The  subject,  therefore,  that  from  hence  we  are  naturally 


148  All  Contingencies  under  the  [SKRM.YIU. 

carried  to  the  consideration  of,  is,  the  admirable  extent  of  the 
divine  Providence,  in  managing-  the  most  contingent  passages 
of  human  affairs ;  which  that  we  may  the  better  treat  of,  we 
will  consider  the  result  of  a  lot : 

I.  In  reference  to  men. 

II.  In  reference  to  God. 

I.  For  the  first  of  these,  if  we  consider  it  as  relating  to 
men,  who  suspend  the  decision  of  some  dubious  case  upon 
it,  so  we  shall  find  that  it  naturally  implies  in  it  these  two 
things : 

1.  Something  future.     2.  Something  contingent. 

From  which  two  qualifications  these  two  things  also  follow  : 

1.  That  it  is  absolutely  out  of  the  reach  of  man's  knowl 
edge. 

2.  That  it  is  equally  out  of  his  power. 

This  is  most  clear;  for  otherwise,  why  are  men  in  such 
cases  doubtful,  and  concerned,  what  the  issue  and  result 
should  be  ?  for  no  man  doubts  of  what  he  sees  and  knows ; 
nor  is  solicitous  about  the  event  of  that  which  he  has  in  his 
power  to  dispose  of  to  what  event  he  pleases. 

The  light  of  man's  understanding  is  but  a  short,  diminu 
tive,  contracted  light,  and  looks  not  beyond  the  present :  he 
knows  nothing  future,  but  as  it  has  some  kind  of  presence  in 
the  stable,  constant  manner  of  operation  belonging  to  its 
cause ;  by  virtue  of  which  we  know,  that  if  the  fire  continues 
for  twenty  years,  it  will  certainly  burn  so  long ;  and  that  there 
will  be  summer,  winter,  and  harvest,  in  their  respective  sea 
sons  :  but  whether  God  will  continue  the  world  till  to-morrow 
or  no,  we  can  not  know  by  any  certain  argument,  either  from 
the  nature  of  God  or  of  the  world. 

But  when  we  look  upon  such  things  as  relate  to  their  im 
mediate  causes  with  a  perfect  indifference,  so  that  in  respect 
of  them  they  equally  may  or  may  not  be,  human  reason  can 
then,  at  the  best,  but  conjecture  what  will  be.  And  in  some 
things,  as  here  in  the  casting  of  lots,  a  man  can  not,  upon 
any  ground  of  reason,  bring  the  event  of  them  so  much  as 
under  conjecture. 

The  choice  of  man's  will  is  indeed  uncertain,  because  in 
many  things  free ;  but  yet  there  are  certain  habits  and  prin 
ciples  in  the  soul,  that  have  some  kind  of  sway  upon  it,  apt 


* 
PBOV.  xvi.  33.]         Direction  of  God's  Providence.  149 

to  bias  it  more  one  way  than  another ;  so  tha,t,  upon  the 
proposal  of  an  agreeable  object,  it  may  rationally  be  conject 
ured,  that  a  man's  choice  will  rather  incline  him  to  accept 
than  to  refuse  it.  But  when  lots  are  shuffled  together  in  a 
lap,  urn,  or  pitcher,  or  a  man  blindfold  casts  a  die,  what 
reason  in  the  world  can  he  have  to  presume  that  he  shall 
draw  a  white  stone  rather  than  a  black,  or  throw  an  ace 
rather  than  a  size  ?  Now,  if  these  things  are  thus  out  of  the 
compass  of  a  man's  knowledge,  it  will  unavoidably  follow, 
that  they  are  also  out  of  his  power.  For  no  man  can  govern 
or  command  that  which  he  can  not  possibly  know ;  since  to 
dispose  of  a  thing  implies  both  a  knowledge  of  the  thing  to 
be  disposed  of,  and  of  the  end  that  it  is  to  be  disposed  of  to. 
And  thus  we  have  seen  how  a  contingent  event  baffles  man's 
knowledge,  and  evades  his  power.  Let  us  now  consider  the 
same  in  respect  of  God ;  and  so  we  shall  find  that  it  falls 
under, 

1.  A  certain  knowledge.     And 

2.  A  determining  providence. 

1.  First  of  all  then,  the  most  casual  event  of  things,  as 
it  stands  related  to  God,  is  comprehended  by  a  certain 
knowledge.  God,  by  reason  of  his  eternal,  infinite,  and 
indivisible  nature,  is,  by  one  single  act  of  duration,  present 
to  all  the  successive  portions  of  time ;  and  consequently  to 
all  things  successively  existing  in  them  :  which  eternal,  in 
divisible  act  of  his  existence  makes  all  futures  actually  pres 
ent  to  him ;  and  it  is  the  presentiality  of  the  object  which 
founds  the  unerring  certainty  of  his  knowledge.  For  what 
soever  is  known,  is  some  way  or  other  present ;  and  that 
which  is  present  can  not  but  be  known  by  him  who  is  omnis 
cient. 

But  I  shall  not  insist  upon  these  speculations  ;  which 
when  they  are  most  refined  serve  only  to  show  how  impos 
sible  it  is  for  us  to  have  a  clear  and  explicit  notion  of  that 
which  is  infinite.  Let  it  suffice  us  in  general  to  acknowledge 
and  adore  the  vast  compass  of  God's  omniscience.  That  it  is 
a  light  shining  into  every  dark  corner,  ripping  up  all  secrets, 
and  steadfastly  grasping  the  greatest  and  most  slippery  un 
certainties.  As  when  we  see  the  sun  shine  upon  a  river, 
though  the  waves  of  it  move  and  roll  this  way  and  that  way 


150  All  Contingencies  under  the  [SERM.  vm. 

by  the  wind ;  yet  for  all  their  unsettledness,  the  sun  strikes 
them  with  a  direct  and  a  certain  beam.  Look  upon  things 
of  the  most  accidental  and  mutable  nature,  accidental  in 
their  production,  and  mutable  in  their  continuance;  yet 
God's  prescience  of  them  is  as  certain  in  him  as  the  memory 
of  them  is  or  can  be  in  us.  He  knows  which  way  the  lot 
and  the  die  shall  fall,  as  perfectly  as  if  they  were  already 
cast.  All  futurities  are  naked  before  that  all-seeing-  eye,  the 
sight  of  which  is  no  more  hindered  by  distance  of  time  than 
the  sight  of  an  angel  can  be  determined  by  distance  of  place. 

2.  As  all  contingencies  are  comprehended  by  a  certain 
divine  knowledge,  so  they  are  governed  by  as  certain  and 
steady  a  providence. 

There  is  no  wandering  out  of  the  reach  of  this,  no  slipping 
through  the  hands  of  omnipotence.  God's  hand  is  as  steady 
as  his  eye ;  and  certainly  thus  to  reduce  contingency  to 
method,  instability  and  chance  itself  to  an  unfailing  rule  and 
order,  argues  such  a  mind  as  is  fit  to  govern  the  world ;  and 
I  am  sure  nothing  less  than  such  an  one  can. 

Now  God  may  be  said  to  bring  the  greatest  casualties  under 
his  providence  upon  a  twofold  account : 

(1.)  That  he  directs  them  to  a  certain  end. 

(2.)  Oftentimes  to  very  weighty  and  great  ends. 

(1.)  And  first  of  all,  he  directs  them  to  a  certain  end. 

Providence  never  shoots  at  rovers.  There  is  an  arrow  that 
flies  by  night  as  well  as  by  day,  and  God  is  the  person  that 
shoots  it,  who  can  aim  then  as  well  as  in  the  day.  Things 
are  not  left  to  an  equilibrium,  to  hover  under  an  indifference 
whether  they  shall  come  to  pass  or  not  come  to  pass ;  but 
the  whole  train  of  events  is  laid  beforehand,  and  all  proceed 
by  the  rule  and  limit  of  an  antecedent  decree.:  for  otherwise, 
who  could  manage  the  affairs  of  the  world,  and  govern  the 
dependence  of  one  event  upon  another,  if  that  event  hap 
pened  at  random,  and  was  not  cast  into  a  certain  method  and 
relation  to  some  foregoing  purpose  to  direct  it  ? 

The  reason  why  men  are  so  short  and  weak  in  governing 
is,  because  most  things  fall  out  to  them  accidentally,  and 
come  not  into  any  compliance  with  their  preconceived  ends, 
but  they  are  forced  to  comply  subsequently,  and  to  strike  in 
with  things  as  they  fall  out,  by  postliminious  after-applications 


PROV.  xvi.  33.]          Direction  of  God's  Providence.  151 

of  them  to  their  purposes,  or  by  framing  their  purposes  to 
them. 

But  now  there  is  not  the  least  thing  that  falls  within  the 
cognizance  of  man,  but  is  directed  by  the  counsel  of  God. 
Not  an  hair  can  fall  from  our  head,  nor  a  sparrow  to  tlie  ground, 
ivithout  the  will  of  our  heavenly  Father.  Such  an  universal 
superintendency  has  the  eye  and  hand  of  Providence  over  all, 
even  the  most  minute  and  inconsiderable  things. 

Nay,  and  sinful  actions  too  are  overruled  to  a  certain  issue ; 
even  that  horrid  villainy  of  the  crucifixion  of  our  Saviour  was 
not  a  thing  left  to  the  disposal  of  chance  and  uncertainty ; 
but  in  Acts  ii.  23.  it  is  said  of  him,  that  he  was  delivered  to  the 
wicked  liands  of  his  murderers,  by  the  determinate  counsel  and 
foreknowledge  of  God :  for  surely  the  Son  of  God  could  not  die 
by  chance,  nor  the  greatest  thing  that  ever  came  to  pass  in 
nature  be  left  to  an  undeterminate  event.  Is  it  imaginable 
that  the  great  means  of  the  world's  redemption  should  rest 
only  in  the  number  of  possibilities,  and  hang  so  loose  in  re 
spect  of  its  futurition  as  to  leave  the  event  in  an  equal  poise, 
whether  ever  there  should  be  such  a  thing  or  no  ?  Certainly 
the  actions  and  proceedings  of  wise  men  run  in  a  much 
greater  closeness  and  coherence  with  one  another  than  thus 
to  derive  at  a  casual  issue,  brought  under  no  forecast  or  de 
sign.  The  pilot  must  intend  some  port  before  he  steers  his 
course,  or  he  had  as  good  leave  his  vessel  to  the  direction  of 
the  winds  and  the  government  of  the  waves. 

Those  that  suspend  the  purposes  of  God,  and  the  resolves 
of  an  eternal  mind  upon  the  actions  of  the  creature,  and  make 
God  first  wait  and  expect  what  the  creature  will  do,  (and  then 
frame  his  decrees  and  counsels  accordingly,)  forget  that  he  is 
the  first  cause  of  all  things,  and  discourse  most  unphilosoph- 
ically,  absurdly,  and  unsuitably  to  the  nature  of  an  infinite 
being;  whose  influence  in  every  motion  must  set  the  first 
wheel  agoing.  He  must  still  be  the  first  agent,  and  what 
he  does  he  must  will  and  intend  to  do  before  he  does  it,  and 
what  he  wills  and  intends  once,  he  willed  and  intended  from 
all  eternity ;  it  being  grossly  contrary  to  the  very  first  notions 
we  have  of  the  infinite  perfection  of  the  divine  nature,  to 
state  or  suppose  any  new  immanent  act  in  God. 

The  Stoics  indeed  held  a  fatality,  and  a  fixed  unalterable 


152  AH  Contingencies  under  the  [SERM.  viu. 

course  of  events  ;  but  then  they  held  also,  that  they  fell  out 
by  a  necessity  emergent  from  and  inherent  in  the  things 
themselves,  which  God  himself  could  not  alter  :  so  that  they 
subjected  God  to  the  fatal  chain  of  causes,  whereas  they 
should  have  resolved  the  necessity  of  all  inferior  events  into 
the  free  determination  of  God  himself;  who  executes  neces 
sarily  that  which  he  first  purposed  freely. 

In  a  word,  if  we  allow  God  to  be  the  governor  of  the  world, 
we  can  not  but  grant  that  he  orders  and  disposes  of  all  infe 
rior  events ;  and  if  we  allow  him  to  be  a  wise  and  a  rational 
governor,  he  can  not  but  direct  them  to  a  certain  end. 

(2.)  In  the  next  place,  he  directs  all  these  appearing  casu 
alties,  not  only  to  certain,  but  also  to  very  great  ends. 

He  that  created  something  out  of  nothing,  surely  can  raise 
great  things  out  of  small,  and  bring  all  the  scattered  and 
disordered  passages  of  affairs  into  a  great,  beautiful,  and  ex 
act  frame.  Now  this  overruling,  directing  power  of  God  may 
be  considered, 

First,  In  reference  to  societies,  or  united  bodies  of  men. 

Secondly,  In  reference  to  particular  persons. 

First.  And  first  for  societies.  God  and  nature  do  not 
principally  concern  themselves  in  the  preservation  of  partic 
ulars,  but  of  kinds  and  companies.  Accordingly,  we  must 
allow  Providence  to  be  more  intent  and  solicitous  about 
nations  and  governments  than  about  any  private  interest 
whatsoever.  Upon  which  account  it  must  needs  have  a  pecu 
liar  influence  upon  the  erection,  continuance,  and  dissolution 
of  every  society.  Which  great  effects  it  is  strange  to  consider, 
by  what  small,  inconsiderable  means  they  are  oftentimes 
brought  about,  and  those  so  wholly  undesigned  by  such  as  are 
the  immediate  visible  actors  in  them.  Examples  of  this  we 
have  both  in  holy  writ,  and  also  in  other  stories. 

And  first  for  those  of  the  former  sort. 

Let  us  reflect  upon  that  strange  and  unparalleled  stoiy  of 
Joseph  and  his  brethren  ;  a  story  that  seems  to  be  made  up 
of  nothing  else  but  chances  and  little  contingencies,  all 
directed  to  mighty  ends.  For  was  it  not  a  mere  chance  that 
his  father  Jacob  should  send  him  to  visit  his  brethren,  just 
at  that  time  that  the  Ishmaelites  were  to  pass  by  that  way, 
and  so  his  unnatural  brethren  take  occasion  to  sell  him  to 


PROV.  xvi.  33.]         Direction  of  God's  Providence.  153 

them,  and  they  to  carry  him  into  Egypt  ?  and  then  that  he 
should  be  cast  into  prison,  and  thereby  brought  at  length  to 
the  knowledge  of  Pharaoh  in  that  unlikely  manner  that  he 
was  ?  Yet  by  a  joint  connection  of  every  one  of  these  casual 
events,  Providence  served  itself  in  the  preservation  of  a  king 
dom  from  famine,  and  of  the  church,  then  circumscribed 
within  the  family  of  Jacob.  Likewise  by  their  sojourning  in 
Egypt,  he  made  way  for  their  bondage  there,  and  their  bond 
age  for  a  glorious  deliverance  through  those  prodigious  mani 
festations  of  the  divine  power,  in  the  several  plagues  inflicted 
upon  the  Egyptians.  It  was  hugely  accidental  that  Joash 
king  of  Israel,  being  commanded  by  the  prophet  to  strike 
upon  the  ground,  2  Kings  xiii.,  should  strike  no  oftener  than 
just  three  times ;  and  yet  we  find  there  that  the  fate  of  a 
kingdom  depended  upon  it,  and  that  his  victories  over  Syria 
were  concluded  by  that  number.  It  was  very  casual  that  the 
Levite  and  his  concubine  should  linger  so  long  as  to  be  forced 
to  take  up  their  lodging  at  Gibeah,  as  we  read  in  Judges  xix., 
and  yet  we  know  what  a  villainy  was  occasioned  by  it,  and 
what  a  civil  war  that  drew  after  it,  almost  to  the  destruction 
of  a  whole  tribe. 

And  then  for  examples  out  of  other  histories,  to  hint  a  few 
of  them. 

Perhaps  there  is  none  more  remarkable  than  that  passage 
about  Alexander  the  Great,  in  his  famed  expedition  against 
Darius. 

When  in  his  march  towards  him,  chancing  to  bathe  him 
self  in  the  river  Cydnus,  through  the  excessive  coldness  of 
those  waters,  he  fell  sick  near  unto  death  for  three  days ; 
during  which  short  space  the  Persian  army  had  advanced 
itself  into  the  strait  passages  of  Cilicia ;  by  which  means  Al 
exander  with  his  small  army  was  able  to  equal  them  under 
those  disadvantages,  and  to  fight  and  conquer  them.  Whereas 
had  not  this  stop  been  given  him  by  that  accidental  sickness, 
his  great  courage  and  promptness  of  mind  would,  beyond  all 
doubt,  have  carried  him  directly  forward  to  the  enemy,  till  he 
had  met  him  in  the  vast  open  plains  of  Persia,  where  his 
paucity  and  small  numbers  would  have  been  contemptible, 
and  the  Persian  multitudes  formidable ;  and,  in  all  likelihood 
of  reason,  victorious.  So  that  this  one  little  accident  of  that 


154  All  Contingencies  under  tJie  [SERM.  vm. 

prince's  taking  a  fancy  to  bathe  himself  at  that  time,  caused 
the  interruption  of  his  march,  and  that  interruption  gave  oc 
casion  to  that  great  victory  that  founded  the  third  monarchy 
of  the  world.  In  like  manner,  how  much  of  casualty  was 
there  in  the  preservation  of  Romulus,  as  soon  as  born  exposed 
by  his  uncle,  and  took  up  and  nourished  by  a  shepherd !  (for 
the  story  of  the  shewolf  is  a  fable.)  And  yet  in  that  one 
accident  was  laid  the  foundation  of  the  fourth  universal  mon 
archy. 

How  doubtful  a  case  was  it,  whether  Hannibal,  after  the 
battle  of  Cannae,  should  march  directly  to  Rome,  or  divert 
into  Campania !  Certain  it  is,  that  there  was  more  reason 
for  the  former ;  and  he  was  a  person  that  had  sometimes  the 
command  of  reason,  as  well  as  regiments :  yet  his  reason  de 
serted  his  conduct  at  that  time ;  and  by  not  going  to  Rome 
he  gave  occasion  to  those  recruits  of  the  Roman  strength  that 
prevailed  to  the  conquest  of  his  country,  and  at  length  to  the 
destruction  of  Carthage  itself,  one  of  the  most  puissant  cities 
in  the  world. 

And  to  descend  to  occurrences  within  our  own  nation.  How 
many  strange  accidents  concurred  in  the  whole  business  of 
King  Henry  the  Eighth's  divorce  !  yet  we  see  Providence  di 
rected  it  and  them  to  an  entire  change  of  the  affairs  and  state 
of  the  whole  kingdom.  And  surely,  there  could  not  be  a 
greater  chance  than  that  which  brought  to  light  the  powder 
treason,  when  Providence,  as  it  were,  snatched  a  king  and 
kingdom  out  of  the  very  jaws  of  death,  only  by  the  mistake 
of  a  word  in  the  direction  of  a  letter. 

But  of  all  cases  in  which  little  casualties  produce  great 
and  strange  effects,  the  chief  is  in  war ;  upon  the  issues  of 
which  hangs  the  fortune  of  states  and  kingdoms. 

Caesar,  I  am  sure,  whose  great  sagacity  and  conduct  put 
his  success  as  much  out  of  the  power  of  chance  as  human 
reason  could  well  do,  yet  upon  occasion  of  a  notable  experi 
ment  that  had  like  to  have  lost  him  his  whole  army  at 
Dyrrachium,  tells  us  the  power  of  it  in  the  third  book  of 
his  Commentaries,  De  Bello  Civili :  "  Fortuna  quae  pluri- 
mum  potest,  cum  in  aliis  rebus,  turn  praecipue  in  bello,  in 
parvis  momentis  magnas  rerum  mutationes  efficit."  Nay, 
and  a  greater  than  Caesar,  even  the  Spirit  of  God  himself, 


PROV.  xvi.  33.]         Direction  of  God's  Providence.  155 

in  Eccles.  vi.  11.,  expressly  declares,  that  the  battle  is  not  al 
ways  to  the  strong.  So  that  upon  this  account  every  warrior 
may  in  some  sense  be  said  to  be  a  soldier  of  fortune ;  and  the 
best  commanders  to  have  a  kind  of  lottery  for  their  work,  as, 
amongst  us,  they  have  for  their  reward.  For  how  often  have 
whole  armies  been  routed  by  a  little  mistake,  or  a  sudden  fear 
raised  in  the  soldiers'  minds,  upon  some  trivial  ground  or  oc 
casion  ! 

Sometimes  the  misunderstanding  of  a  word  has  scattered 
and  destroyed  those  who  have  been  even  in  possession  of  vic 
tory,  and  wholly  turned  the  fortune  of  the  day.  A  spark  of 
fire  or  an  unexpected  gust  of  wind  may  ruin  a  navy.  And 
sometimes  a  false,  senseless  report  has  spread  so  far,  and  sunk 
so  deep  into  the  people's  minds,  as  to  cause  a  tumult,  and  that 
tumult  a  rebellion,  and  that  rebellion  has  ended  in  the  sub 
version  of  a  government. 

And  in  the  late  war  between  the  king  and  some  of  his 
rebel  subjects,  has  it  not  sometimes  been  at  an  even  cast, 
whether  his  army  should  march  this  way  or  that  way  ? 
Whereas  had  it  took  that  way,  which  actually  it  did  not, 
things  afterwards  so  fell  out,  that  in  very  high  probability  of 
reason,  it  must  have  met  with  such  success  as  would  have 
put  an  happy  issue  to  that  wretched  war,  and  thereby  have 
continued  the  crown  upon  that  blessed  prince's  head,  and  his 
head  upon  his  shoulders.  Upon  supposal  of  which  event, 
most  of  those  sad  and  strange  alterations  that  have  since 
happened  would  have  been  prevented ;  the  ruin  of  many  hon 
est  men  hindered,  the  punishment  of  many  great  villains 
hastened,  and  the  preferment  of  greater  spoiled. 

Many  passages  happen  in  the  world,  much  like  that  little 
cloud  in  1  Kings  xviii.,  that  appeared  at  first  to  Elijah's 
servant,  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  but  presently  after  grew 
and  spread,  and  blackened  the  face  of  the  whole  heaven,  and 
then  discharged  itself  in  thunder  and  rain,  and  a  mighty 
tempest.  So  these  accidents,  when  they  first  happen,  seem 
but  small  and  contemptible  ;  but  by  degrees  they  branch  out, 
and  widen  themselves  into  such  a  numerous  train  of  mischiev 
ous  consequences,  one  drawing  after  it  another,  by  a  continued 
dependence  and  multiplication,  that  the  plague  becomes  vie- 


156  All  Contingencies  under  the  [SEEM.  vm. 

torious  and  universal,  and  personal  miscarriage  determines  in 
a  national  calamity. 

For  who  that  should  view  the  small,  despicable  beginnings 
of  some  things  and  persons  at  first,  could  imagine  or  prog 
nosticate  those  vast  and  stupendous  increases  of  fortune  that 
have  afterwards  followed  them  ? 

Who,  that  had  looked  upon  Agathocles  first  handling  the 
clay,  and  making  pots  under  his  father,  and  afterwards  turn 
ing  robber,  could  have  thought  that  from  such  a  condition 
be  should  come  to  be  king  of  Sicily  ? 

Who,  that  had  seen  Masianello,  a  poor  fisherman,  with  his 
red  cap  and  his  angle,  could  have  reckoned  it  possible  to  see 
such  a  pitiful  thing,  within  a  week  after,  shining  in  his  cloth 
of  gold,  and  with  a  word  or  a  nod  absolutely  commanding  the 
whole  city  of  Naples  ? 

And  who,  that  had  beheld  such  a  bankrupt,  beggarly  fellow 
as  Cromwell,  first  entering  the  parliament  house  with  a  thread 
bare  torn  cloak,  and  a  greasy  hat,  (and  perhaps  neither  of 
them  paid  for,)  could  have  suspected  that  in  the  space  of  so 
few  years  he  should,  by  the  murder  of  one  king  and  the  ban 
ishment  of  another,  ascend  the  throne,  be  invested  in  the 
royal  robes,  and  want  nothing  of  the  state  of  a  king  but  the 
changing  of  his  hat  into  a  crown  ? 

It  is,  as  it  were,  the  sport  of  the  Almighty  thus  to  baffle 
and  confound  the  sons  of  men  by  such  events  as  both  cross 
the  methods  of  their  actings,  and  surpass  the  measure  of  their 
expectations.  For  according  to  both  these,  men  still  suppose 
a  gradual  natural  progress  of  things ;  as  that  from  great, 
things  and  persons  should  grow  greater,  till  at  length,  by 
many  steps  and  ascents,  they  come  to  be  at  greatest ;  not 
considering  that  when  Providence  designs  strange  and 
mighty  changes,  it  gives  men  wings  instead  of  legs ;  and 
instead  of  climbing  leisurely,  makes  them  at  once  fly  to  the 
top  and  height  of  greatness  and  power.  So  that  the  world 
about  them  (looking  up  to  those  illustrious  upstarts)  scarce 
'knows  who  or  whence  they  were,  nor  they  themselves  where 
they  are. 

It  were  infinite  to  insist  upon  particular  instances;  his 
tories  are  full  of  them,  and  experience  seals  to  the  truth  of 
history. 


PROV.  xvi.  33.]         Direction  of  God's  Providence.  157 

In  the  next  place,  let  us  consider  to  what  great  purposes 
God  directs  these  little  casualties,  with  reference  to  partic 
ular  persons ;  and  those  either  public  or  private. 

1.  And  first  for  public  persons,  as  princes.  Was  it  not 
a  mere  accident  that  Pharaoh's  daughter  met  with  Moses  ? 
Yet  it  was  a  means  to  bring  him  up  in  the  Egyptian  court, 
then  the  school  of  all  arts  and  policy,  and  so  to  fit  him  for 
that  great  and  arduous  employment  that  God  designed  him 
to.  For  see  upon  what  little  hinges  that  great  affair  turned ; 
for  had  either  the  child  been  cast  out,  or  Pharaoh's  daughter 
come  down  to  the  river  but  an  hour  sooner  or  later ;  or  had 
that  little  vessel  not  been  cast  by  the  parents,  or  carried  by 
the  water,  into  that  very  place  where  it  was,  in  all  likelihood 
the  child  must  have  undergone  the  common  lot  of  the  other 
Hebrew  children,  and  been  either  starved  or  drowned ;  or, 
however,  not  advanced  to  such  a  peculiar  height  and  happi 
ness  of  condition.  That  Octavius  Csesar  should  shift  his  tent 
(which  he  had  never  used  to  do  before)  just  that  very  night 
that  it  happened  to  be  took  by  the  enemy,  was  a  mere  casu 
alty  ;  yet  such  an  one  as  preserved  a  person  who  lived  to  es 
tablish  a  total  alteration  of  government  in  the  imperial  city 
of  the  world. 

But  we  need  not  go  far  for  a  prince  preserved  by  as  strange 
a  series  of  little  contingencies  as  ever  were  managed  by  the 
art  of  Providence  to  so  great  a  purpose. 

There  was  but  an  hair's  breadth  between  him  and  certain 
destruction  for  the  space  of  many  days.  For  had  the  rebel 
forces  gone  one  way  rather  than  another,  or  come  but  a  little 
sooner  to  his  hiding  -  place,  or  but  mistrusted  something 
which  they  passed  over,  (all  which  things  might  very  easily 
have  happened ;)  we  had  not  seen  this  face  of  things  at  this 
day;  but  rebellion  had  been  still  enthroned,  perjury  and 
cruelty  had  reigned,  majesty  had  been  proscribed,  religon  ex 
tinguished,  and  both  church  and  state  thoroughly  reformed 
and  ruined  with  confusions,  massacres,  and  a  total  desolation. 

On  the  contrary,  when  Providence  designs  judgment  or 
destruction  to  a  prince,  nobody  knows  by  what  little,  unusual, 
unregarded  means  the  fatal  blow  shall  reach  him.  If  Ahab 
be  designed  for  death,  though  a  soldier  in  the  enemy's  army 
draws  a  bow  at  a  venture ;  yet  the  sure,  unerring  directions 


158  All  Contingencies  under  the  [SERM.  vm. 

of  Providence  shall  carry  it  in  a  direct  course  to  his  heart, 
and  there  lodge  the  revenge  of  Heaven. 

An  old  woman  shall  cast  down  a  stone  from  a  wall,  and 
God  shall  send  it  to  the  head  of  Abimelech,  and  so  sacrifice  a. 
king  in  the  very  head  of  his  army. 

How  many  warnings  had  Julius  Caesar  of  the  fatal  ides  of 
March !  Whereupon  sometimes  he  resolved  not  to  go  to  the 
senate,  and  sometimes  again  he  would  go ;  and  when  at 
length  he  did  go,  in  his  very  passage  thither,  one  put  into  his 
hand  a  note  of  the  whole  conspiracy  against  him,  together 
with  all  the  names  of  the  conspirators,  desiring  him  to  read 
it  forthwith,  and  to  remember  the  giver  of  it  as  long  as  he 
lived.  But  continual  salutes  and  addresses  entertaining  him 
all  the  way,  kept  him  from  saving  so  great  a  life,  but  with 
one  glance  of  his  eye  upon  the  paper ;  till  he  came  to  the 
fatal  place  where  he  was  stabbed,  and  died  with  the  very 
means  of  preventing  death  in  his  hand. 

Henry  the  Second  of  France,  by  a  splinter,  unhappily  thrust 
into  his  eye  at  a  solemn  justing,  was  dispatched  and  sent  out 
of  the  world,  by  a  sad,  but  very  accidental  death. 

In  a  word,  God  has  many  ways  to  reap  down  the  grandees 
of  the  earth ;  an  arrow,  a  bullet,  a  tile,  a  stone  from  an  house, 
is  enough  to  do  it :  and  besides  all  these  ways,  sometimes, 
when  he  intends  to  bereave  the  world  of  a  prince  or  an  illus 
trious  person,  he  may  cast  him  upon  a  bold,  self-opinioned 
physician,  worse  than  his  distemper,  who  shall  dose  and  bleed, 
and  kill  him  secundum  artem,  and  make  a  shift  to  cure  him 
into  his  grave. 

In  the  last  place  we  will  consider  this  directing  influence 
of  God  with  reference  to  private  persons ;  and  that,  as  touch 
ing  things  of  nearest  concernment  to  them.  As, 

1.  Their  lives. 

2.  Their  health. 

3.  Their  reputation. 

4.  Their  friendships.     And, 

5.  Lastly,  their  employments  or  preferments. 

And  first  for  men's  lives.  Though  these  are  things  for 
which  nature  knows  no  price  or  ransom,  yet  I  appeal  to  uni 
versal  experience  whether  they  have  not,  in  many  men,  hung 
oftentimes  upon  a  very  slender  thread,  and  the  distance  be- 


PKOV.  xvi.  33.]          Direction  of  God's  Providence.  159 

tween  them  and  death  been  very  nice,  and  the  escape  wonder 
ful.  There  have  been  some,  who  upon  a  slight  and  perhaps 
groundless  occasion  have  gone  out  of  a  ship,  or  house,  and 
the  ship  has  sunk,  and  the  house  has  fell  immediately  after 
their  departure. 

He  that,  in  a  great  wind,  suspecting  the  strength  of  his 
house,  betook  himself  to  his  orchard,  and  walking  there,  was 
knocked  on  the  head  by  a  tree,  falling  through  the  fury  of  a 
sudden  gust,  wanted  but  the  advance  of  one  or  two  steps  to 
have  put  him  out  of  the  way  of  that  mortal  blow. 

He  that  being  subject  to  an  apoplexy,  used  still  to  carry  his 
remedy  about  him;  but,  upon  a  time,  shifting  his  clothes, 
and  not  taking  that  with  him,  chanced,  upon  that  very  day, 
to  be  surprised  with  a  fit,  and  to  die  in  it,  certainly  owed  his 
death  to  a  mere  accident,  to  a  little  inadvertency  and  failure 
of  memory.  But  not  to  recount  too  many  particulars  :  may 
not  every  soldier,  that  comes  alive  out  of  the  battle,  pass  for 
a  living  monument  of  a  benign  chance,  and  a  happy  provi 
dence?  For  was  he  not  in  the  nearest  neighborhood  to 
death  ?  And  might  not  the  bullet,  that  perhaps  grazed  his 
cheek,  have  as  easily  gone  into  his  head  ?  And  the  sword 
that  glanced  upon  his  arm,  with  a  little  diversion  have  found 
the  way  to  his  heart  ?  But  the  workings  of  Providence  are 
marvelous,  and  the  methods  secret  and  untraceable  by  which 
it  disposes  of  the  lives  of  men. 

In  like  manner,  for  men's  health,  it  is  no  less  wonderful  to 
consider  to  what  strange  casualties  many  sick  persons  often 
times  owe  their  recovery.  Perhaps  an  unusual  draught  or 
morsel,  or  some  accidental  violence  of  motion,  has  removed 
that  malady  that  for  many  years  has  baffled  the  skill  of  all 
physicians.  So  that,  in  effect,  he  is  the  best  physician  that 
has  the  best  luck  ;  he  prescribes,  but  it  is  chance  that  cures. 

That  person  that  (being  provoked  by  excessive  pain)  thrust 
his  dagger  into  his  body,  and  thereby,  instead  of  reaching  his 
vitals,  opened  an  imposthume,  the  unknown  cause  of  all  his 
pain,  and  so  stabbed  himself  into  perfect  health  and  ease, 
surely  had  great  reason  to  acknowledge  Chance  for  his  chirur- 
geon,  and  Providence  for  the  guider  of  his  hand. 

And  then  also  for  men's  reputation  ;  and  that  either  in 
point  of  wisdom  or  of  wit.  There  is  hardly  any  thing  which 


160  All  Contingencies  under  the  [SERM.  vin. 

(for  the  most  part)  falls  under  a  greater  clianoe.  If  a  man 
succeeds  in  any  attempt,  though  undertook  with  never  so 
much  folly  and  rashness,  his  success  shall  vouch  him  a  politi 
cian  ;  and  good  luck  shall  pass  for  deep  contrivance  :  for  give 
any  one  fortune,  and  he  shall  be  thought  a  wise  man,  in  spite 
of  his  heart ;  nay,  and  of  his  head  too.  On  the  contrary,  be 
a  design  never  so  artificially  laid,  and  spun  in  the  finest 
thread  of  policy,  if  it  chances  to  be  defeated  by  some  cross 
accident,  the  man  is  then  run  down  by  an  universal  vogue ; 
his  counsels  are  derided,  his  prudence  questioned,  and  his  per 
son  despised. 

Ahithophd  was  as  great  an  oracle,  and  gave  as  good  counsel 
to  Absalom,  as  ever  he  had  given  to  David ;  but  not  having 
the  good  luck  to  be  believed,  and  thereupon  losing  his  former 
repute,  he  thought  it  high  time  to  hang  himself.  And,  on 
the  other  side,  there  have  been  some,  who  for  several  years 
have  been  fools  with  tolerable  good  reputation,  and  never  dis 
covered  themselves  to  be  so,  till  at  length  they  attempted  to 
be  knaves  also,  but  wanted  art  and  dexterity. 

And  as  the  repute  of  wisdom,  so  that  of  wit  also,  is  very 
casual.  Sometimes  a  lucky  saying,  or  a  pertinent  reply,  has 
procured  an  esteem  of  wit,  to  persons  otherwise  very  shallow, 
and  no  ways  accustomed  to  utter  such  things  by  any  standing 
ability  of  mind ;  so  that  if  such  an  one  should  have  the  ill  hap 
at  any  time  to  strike  a  man  dead  with  a  smart  saying,  it 
ought,  in  all  reason  and  conscience,  to  be  judged  but  a  chance- 
medley  :  the  poor  man  (God  knows)  being  no  way  guilty  of 
any  design  of  wit. 

Nay,  even  where  there  is  a  real  stock  of  wit,  yet  the  wittiest 
sayings  and  sentences  will  be  found  in  a  great  measure  the 
issues  of  chance,  and  nothing  else  but  so  many  lucky  hits  of 
a  roving  fancy. 

For  consult  the  acutest  poets  and  speakers,  and  they  will 
confess  that  their  quickest  and  most  admired  conceptions 
were  such  as  darted  into  their  minds  like  sudden  flashes  of 
lightning,  they  knew  not  how,  nor  whence ;  and  not  by  any 
certain  consequence  or  dependence  of  one  thought  upon 
another,  as  it  is  in  matters  of  ratiocination. 

Moreover,  sometimes  a  man's  reputation  rises  or  falls  as  his 
memory  serves  him  in  a  performance ;  and  yet  there  is 


PROV.  xvi.  33.]          Direction  of  God's  Providence.  161 

nothing  more  fickle,  slippery,  and  less  under  command  than 
this  faculty.  So  that  many,  having  used  their  utmost  dili 
gence  to  secure  a  faithful  retention  of  the  things  or  words 
committed  to  it,  yet  after  all  can  not  certainly  know  where  it 
will  trip  and  fail  them.  Any  sudden  diversion  of  the  spirits, 
or  the  justling  in  of  a  transient  thought,  is  able  to  deface 
those  little  images  of  things  ;  and  so  breaking  the  train  that 
was  laid  in  the  mind,  to  leave  a  man  in  the  lurch.  And  for 
the  other  part  of  memory,  called  reminiscence,  which  is  the 
retrieving  of  a  thing,  at  present  forgot,  or  but  confusedly 
remembered,  by  setting  the  mind  to  hunt  over  all  its  no 
tions,  and  to  ransack  every  little  cell  of  the  brain.  While  it 
is  thus  busied,  how  accidentally  oftentimes  does  the  thing 
sought  for  offer  itself  to  the  mind !  And  by  what  small,  petit 
hints  does  the  mind  catch  hold  of  and  recover  a  vanishing 
notion  ! 

In  short,  though  wit  and  learning  are  certain  and  habitual 
perfections  of  the  mind,  yet  the  declaration  of  them  (which 
alone  brings  the  repute)  is  subject  to  a  thousand  hazards. 
So  that  every  wit  runs  something  the  same  risk  with  the 
astrologer,  who,  if  his  predictions  come  to  pass,  is  cried  up 
to  the  stars  from  whence  he  pretends  to  draw  them ;  but  if 
not,  the  astrologer  himself  grows  more  out  of  date  than  his 
almanac. 

And  then,  in  the  fourth  place,  for  the  friendships  or 
enmities  that  a  man  contracts  in  the  world ;  than  which 
surely  there  is  nothing  that  has  a  more  direct  and  potent 
influence  upon  the  whole  course  of  a  man's  life,  whether  as 
to  happiness  or  misery ;  yet  chance  has  the  ruling  stroke  in 
them  all. 

A  man  by  mere  peradventure  lights  into  company,  possibly 
is  driven  into  an  house  by  a  shower  of  rain  for  present  shel 
ter,  and  there  begins  an  acquaintance  with  a  person ;  which 
acquaintance  and  endearment  grows  and  continues,  even  when 
relations  fail,  and  perhaps  proves  the  support  of  his  mind  and 
of  his  fortunes  to  his  dying  day. 

And  the  like  holds  in  enmities,  which  come  much  more 
easily  than  the  other.  A  word  unadvisedly  spoken  on  the 
one  side,  or  misunderstood  on  the  other ;  any  the  least  sur 
mise  of  neglect ;  sometimes  a  bare  gesture ;  nay,  the  very 

VOL.  I.  11 


162  All  Contingencies  under  the  [SBRM.  vni. 

unsuitableness  of  one  man's  aspect  to  another  man's  fancy, 
has  raised  such  an  aversion  to  him,  as  in  time  has  produced 
a  perfect  hatred  of  him ;  and  that  so  strong  and  so  tenacious, 
that  it  has  never  left  vexing  and  troubling  him,  till  perhaps 
at  length  it  has  worried  him  to  his  grave;  yea,  and  after 
death  too,  has  pursued  him  in  his  surviving  shadow,  exercis 
ing  the  same  tyranny  upon  his  very  name  and  memory. 

It  is  hard  to  please  men  of  some  tempers,  who  indeed  hardly 
know  what  will  please  themselves  ;  and  yet  if  a  man  does  not 
please  them,  which  it  is  ten  thousand  to  one  if  he  does,  if 
they  can  but  have  power  equal  to  their  malice,  (as  sometimes, 
to  plague  the  world,  God  lets  them  have,)  such  an  one  must 
expect  all  the  mischief  that  power  and  spite,  lighting  upon  a 
base  mind,  can  possibly  do  him. 

In  the  last  place.  As  for  men's  employments  and  pre 
ferments,  every  man  that  sets  forth  into  the  world,  comes 
into  a  great  lottery,  and  draws  some  one  certain  profession  to 
act,  and  live  by,  but  knows  not  the  fortune  that  will  attend 
him  in  it. 

One  man  perhaps  proves  miserable  in  the  study  of  the  law, 
who  might  have  flourished  in  that  of  physic  or  divinity. 
Another  runs  his  head  against  the  pulpit,  who  might  have 
been  very  serviceable  to  his  country  at  the  plow.  And  a 
third  proves  a  very  dull  and  heavy  philosopher,  who  possibly 
would  have  made  a  good  mechanic,  and  have  done  well  enough 
at  the  useful  philosophy  of  the  spade  or  the  anvil. 

Now  let  this  man  reflect  upon  the  time  when  all  these 
several  callings  and  professions  were  equally  offered  to  his 
choice,  and  consider  how  indifferent  it  was  once  for  him  to 
have  fixed  upon  any  one  of  them,  and  what  little  accidents 
and  considerations  cast  the  balance  of  his  choice  rather  one 
way  than  the  other ;  and  he  will  find  how  easily  chance  may 
throw  a  man  upon  a  profession  which  all  his  diligence  can  not 
make  him  fit  for. 

And  then  for  the  preferments  of  the  world,  he  that  would 
reckon  up  all  the  accidents  that  they  depend  upon,  may  as 
well  undertake  to  count  the  sands,  or  to  sum  up  infinity ;  so 
that  greatness,  as  well  as  an  estate,  may,  upon  this  account, 
be  properly  called  a  man's  fortune,  forasmuch  as  no  man  can 
state  either  the  acquisition  or  preservation  of  it  upon  any  cer- 


PROV.  xvi.  33.]         Direction  of  God's  Providence.  163 

tain  rules ;  every  man,  as  well  as  the  merchant,  being-  here 
truly  an  adventurer.  For  the  ways  by  which  it  is  obtained 
are  various,  and  frequently  contrary  :  one  man,  by  sneaking 
and  flattering,  comes  to  riches  and  honor,  (where  it  is  in  the 
power  of  fools  to  bestow  them,)  upon  observation  whereof,  an 
other  presently  thinks  to  arrive  to  the  same  greatness  by  the 
very  same  means  ;  but  striving,  like  the  ass,  to  court  his  mas 
ter,  just  as  the  spaniel  had  done  before  him,  instead  of  being 
stroked  and  made  much  of,  he  is  only  rated  off  and  cudgeled 
for  all  his  courtship. 

The  source  of  men's  preferments  is  most  commonly  the 
will,  humor,  and  fancy  of  persons  in  power;  whereupon, 
when  a  prince  or  grandee  manifests  a  liking  to  such  a  thing, 
such  an  art,  or  such  a  pleasure,  men  generally  set  about  to 
make  themselves  considerable  for  such  things,  and  thereby, 
through  his  favor,  to  advance  themselves ;  and  at  length, 
when  they  have  spent  their  whole  time  in  them,  and  so  are 
become  fit  for  nothing  else,  that  prince  or  grandee  perhaps 
dies,  and  another  succeeds  him,  quite  of  a  different  disposi 
tion,  and  inclining  him  to  be  pleased  with  quite  different 
things.  Whereupon  these  men's  hopes,  studies,  and  expecta 
tions,  are  wholly  at  an  end.  And  besides,  though  the  grandee 
whom  they  build  upon  should  not  die,  or  quit  the  stage,  yet 
the  same  person  does  not  always  like  the  same  things.  For 
age  may  alter  his  constitution,  humor,  or  appetite;  or  the 
circumstances  of  his  affairs  may  put  him  upon  different 
courses  and  counsels;  every  one  of  which  accidents  wholly 
alters  the  road  to  preferment.  So  that  those  who  travel  that 
road  must  be  (like  highwaymen)  very  dexterous  in  shifting 
the  way  upon  every  turn ;  and  yet  their  very  doing  so  some 
times  proves  the  means  of  their  being  found  out,  understood, 
and  abhorred;  and  for  this  very  cause,  that  they  that  are 
ready  to  do  any  thing,  are  justly  thought  fit  to  be  preferred  to 
nothing. 

Caesar  Borgia  (base  son  to  Pope  Alexander  VI.)  used  to 
boast  to  his  friend  Machiavel,  that  he  had  contrived  his  af 
fairs  and  greatness  into  such  a  posture  of  firmness,  that, 
whether  his  holy  father  lived  or  died,  they  could  not  but  ber 
secure.  If  he  lived,  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  them ;  and 


164  All  Contingencies  under  the  [SEKM.  vra. 

if  he  died,  he  laid  his  interest  so  as  to  overrule  the  next  elec 
tion  as  he  pleased.  But  all  this  while  the  politician  never 
thought  or  considered  that  he  might  in  the  mean  time  fall 
dangerously  sick,  and  that  sickness  necessitate  his  removal 
from  the  court,  and  during  that  his  ahsence  his  father  die, 
and  so  his  interest  decay,  and  his  mortal  enemy  be  chosen  to 
the  papacy,  as  indeed  it  fell  out.  So  that  for  all  his  exact 
plot,  down  was  he  cast  from  all  his  greatness,  and  forced  to 
end  his  days  in  a  mean  condition :  as  it  is  pity  but  all  such 
politic  opiniators  should. 

Upon  much  the  like  account,  we  find  it  once  said  of  an 
eminent  cardinal,  by  reason  of  his  great  and  apparent  likeli 
hood  to  step  into  St.  Peter's  chair,  that  in  two  conclaves  he 
went  in  pope,  and  came  out  again  cardinal. 

So  much  has  chance  the  casting  voice  in  the  disposal  of  all 
the  great  things  of  the  world.  That  which  men  call  merit, 
is  a  mere  nothing.  For  even  when  persons  of  the  greatest 
worth  and  merit  are  preferred,  it  is  not  their  merit,  but  their 
fortune  that  prefers  them.  And  then,  for  that  other  so  much 
admired  thing  called  policy,  it  is  but  little  better.  For  when 
men  have  busied  themselves,  and  beat  their  brains  never  so 
much,  the  whole  result  both  of  their  counsels  and  their  for 
tunes  is  still  at  the  mercy  of  an  accident.  And  therefore, 
whosoever  that  man  was,  that  said  that  he  had  rather  have  a 
grain  of  fortune  than  a  pound  of  wisdom,  as  to  the  things  of 
this  life,  spoke  nothing  but  the  voice  of  wisdom  and  great  ex 
perience. 

And  now  I  am  far  from  affirming  that  I  have  recounted 
all,  or  indeed  the  hundredth  part  of  those  casualties  of  hu 
man  life,  that  may  display  the  full  compass  of  divine  Provi 
dence  ;  but  surely  I  have  reckoned  up  so  many  as  sufficiently 
enforce  the  necessity  of  our  reliance  upon  it,  and  that  in 
opposition  to  two  extremes  that  men  are  usually  apt  to  fall 
into. 

1.  Too  much  confidence  and  presumption  in  a  prosperous 
estate.  David,  after  his  deliverances  from  Saul,  and  his  vic 
tories  over  all  his  enemies  round  about  him,  in  Psalm  xxx. 
ver.  7,  8,  confesses,  that  this  his  prosperity  had  raised  him  to 
such  a  pitch  of  confidence,  as  to  make  him  say,  that  he  slwuld 


PROV.  xvi.  33.]         Direction  of  God's  Providence.  165 

never  be  moved,  God  of  his  favor  had  made  his  hill  so  strong  : 
but  presently  he  adds,  almost  in  the  very  same  breath,  TJwu 
didst  hide  thy  face,  and  I  was  troubled. 

The  sun  shines  in  his  full  brightness  but  the  very  moment 
before  he  passes  under  a  cloud.  Who  knows  what  a  day, 
what  an  hour,  nay,  what  a  minute  may  bring-  forth  !  He  who 
builds  upon  the  present,  builds  upon  the  narrow  compass  of 
a  point ;  and  where  the  foundation  is  so  narrow,  the  super 
structure  can  not  be  high  and  strong  too. 

Is  a  man  confident  of  his  present  health  and  strength? 
Why,  an  unwholesome  blast  of  air,  a  cold,  or  a  surfeit  took 
by  chance,  may  shake  in  pieces  his  hardy  fabric,  and,  in  spite 
of  all  his  youth  and  vigor,  send  him,  in  the  very  flower  of  his 
years,  pining  and  drooping  to  his  long  home.  Nay,  he  can 
not  with  any  assurance  so  much  as  step  out  of  his  doors,  but 
(unless  God  commissions  his  protecting  angel  to  bear  him  up 
in  his  hands)  he  may  dash  his  foot  against  a  stone,  and  fall, 
and  in  that  fall  breathe  his  last. 

Or  is  a  man  confident  of  his  estate,  wealth,  and  power  ? 
Why,  let  him  read  of  those  strange,  unexpected  dissolutions 
of  the  great  monarchies  and  governments  of  the  world. 
Governments  that  once  made  such  a  noise,  and  looked  so  big 
in  the  eyes  of  mankind,  as  being  founded  upon  the  deepest 
counsels  and  the  strongest  force ;  and  yet,  by  some  slight 
miscarriage  or  cross  accident,  (which  let  in  ruin  and  desola 
tion  upon  them  at  first,)  are  now  so  utterly  extinct,  that 
nothing  remains  of  them  but  a  name,  nor  are  there  the  least 
signs  or  traces  of  them  to  be  found,  but  only  in  story.  When, 
I  say,  he  shall  have  well  reflected  upon  all  this,  let  him  see 
what  security  he  can  promise  himself  in  his  own  little  per 
sonal  domestic  concerns,  which  at  the  best  have  but  the  pro 
tection  of  the  laws  to  guard  and  defend  them,  which,  God 
knows,  are  far  from  being  able  to  defend  themselves. 

No  man  can  rationally  account  himself  secure,  unless  he 
could  command  all  the  chances  of  the  world  :  but  how  should 
he  command  them,  when  he  can  not  so  much  as  number 
them  ?  Possibilities  are  as  infinite  as  God's  power ;  and  what 
soever  may  come  to  pass,  no  man  can  certainly  conclude  shall 
not  come  to  pass. 

People  forget  how  little  it  is  that  they  know,  and  how  much 


166  All  Contingencies  under  the  [SKRM.  vm. 

less  it  is  that  they  can  do,  when  they  grow  confident  upon 
any  present  state  of  things. 

There  is  no  one  enjoyment  that  a  man  pleases  himself  in, 
but  is  liable  to  be  lost  by  ten  thousand  accidents,  wholly  out 
of  all  mortal  power  either  to  foresee  or  to  prevent.  Reason 
allows  none  to  be  confident,  but  Him  only  who  governs  the 
world,  who  knows  all  things,  and  can  do  all  things,  and  there 
fore  can  neither  be  surprised  nor  overpowered. 

2.  The  other  extreme,  which  these  considerations  should 
arm  the  heart  of  man  against,  is,  utter  despondency  of  mind 
in  a  time  of  pressing  adversity. 

As  he  who  presumes,  steps  into  the  throne  of  God,  so  he 
that  despairs  limits  an  infinite  power  to  a  finite  apprehension, 
and  measures  Providence  by  his  own  little,  contracted  model. 
But  the  contrivances  of  Heaven  are  as  much  above  our  politics 
as  beyond  our  arithmetic. 

Of  those  many  millions  of  casualties  which  we  are  not 
aware  of,  there  is  hardly  one  but  God  can  make  an  instru 
ment  of  our  deliverance.  And  most  men,  who  are  at  length 
delivered  from  any  great  distress  indeed,  find  that  they  are  so 
by  ways  that  they  never  thought  of;  ways  above  or  beside 
their  imagination. 

And  therefore  let  no  man,  who  owns  the  belief  of  a 
providence,  grow  desperate  or  forlorn  under  any  calamity 
or  strait  whatsoever;  but  compose  the  anguish  of  his 
thoughts,  and  rest  his  amazed  spirits  upon  this  one  con 
sideration,  that  he  knows  not  which  way  the  lot  may  fall, 
or  what  may  happen  to  him ;  he  comprehends  not  those 
strange  unaccountable  methods  by  which  Providence  .may 
dispose  of  him. 

In  a  word.  To  sum  up  all  the  foregoing  discourse :  since 
the  interest  of  governments  and  nations,  of  princes  and  pri 
vate  persons,  and  that  both  as  to  life  and  health,  reputation 
and  honor,  friendships  and  enmities,  employments  and  pre 
ferments,  (notwithstanding  all  the  contrivance  and  power  that 
human  nature  can  exert  about  them,)  remain  so  wholly  con 
tingent  as  to  us ;  surely  all  the  reason  of  mankind  can  not 
suggest  any  solid  ground  of  satisfaction,' but  in  making  that 
God  our  friend  who  is  the  sole  and  absolute  disposer  of  all 
these  things :  and  in  carrying  a  conscience  so  clear  towards 


PBOV.  xvi.  33.]         Direction  of  God*s  Providence.  167 

him  as  may  encourage  us  with  confidence  to  cast  ourselves 
upon  him  :  and  in  all  casualties  still  to  promise  ourselves  the 
best  events  from  his  providence,  to  whom  nothing  is  casual  : 
who  constantly  wills  the  truest  happiness  to  those  that  trust 
in  him,  and  works  all  things  according  to  the  counsel  of  that 
blessed  will. 

To  whom  be  rendered  and  ascribed)  as  is  most  due,  all  praise, 
might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for  evermore. 
Amen. 


SERMON  IX. 


A   SERMON   PREACHED    AT   WESTMINSTER   ABBEY,   APRIL 

30,  1676. 


1  COR.  iii.  19. — For  the  wisdom  of  this  world  is  foolishness  with  God. 

THE  wisdom  of  the  world,  so  called  by  an  Hebraism,  fre 
quent  in  the  writings  of  this  apostle,  for  worldly  wisdom, 
is  taken  in  scripture  in  a  double  sense. 

1.  For  that  sort  of  wisdom  that  consists  in   speculation, 
called  (both  by  St.  Paul  and  the  professors  of  it)  philosophy  ; 
the  great  idol  of  the  learned  part  of  the  heathen  world,  and 
which  divided  it  into  so  many  sects   and  denominations,  as 
Stoics,  Peripatetics,  Epicureans,  and  the  like ;  it  was   pro 
fessed  and  owned  by  them  for  the  grand  rule  of  life,  and  cer 
tain  guide  to  man's  chief  happiness.     But  for  its  utter  insuf 
ficiency  to  make  good  so  high  an   undertaking,   we  find  it 
termed  by  the  same  apostle,  Col.  ii.  8,  vain  philosophy ;   and 
1  Tim.  vi.  20,  science  falsely  so  called ;   and  a  full  account  of 
its  uselessness  we  have  in  this,  1  Cor.  i.  21,  where  the  apostle, 
speaking  of  it,  says,  that  the  world  by  wisdom  knew  not  God. 
Such  a  worthy  kind  of  wisdom  is  it :  only  making  men  ac 
curately   and  laboriously  ignorant  of  what  they  were   most 
concerned  to  know. 

2.  The  wisdom  of  this  world  is  sometimes  taken  in  scripture 
for  such  a  wisdom  as  lies  in  practice,  and  goes  commonly  by 
the  name  of  policy ;  and  consists  in  a  certain  dexterity  or  art 
of  managing  business  for  a  man's  secular  advantage  :  and  so 
being  indeed  that  ruling  engine  that  governs  the  world,  it 
both  claims  and  finds  as  great  a  preeminence  above  all  other 
kinds  of  knowledge,  as  government  is  above  contemplation, 


iCoR.iii.39.]  TJie  Wisdom  of  this  World.  169 

or  the  leading  of  an  army  above  the  making  of  syllogisms,  or 
managing  the  little  issues  of  a  dispute. 

And  so  much  is  the  very  name  and  reputation  of  it  affected 
and  valued  by  most  men,  that  they  can  much  rather  brook 
their  being  reputed  knaves,  than  for  their  honesty  be  ac 
counted  fools ;  as  they  easily  may :  knave,  in  the  mean  time, 
passing  for  a  name  of  credit,  where  it  is  only  another  word 
for  politician. 

Now  this  is  the  wisdom  here  intended  in  the  text ;  namely, 
that  practical  cunning  that  shows  itself  in  political  matters, 
and  has  in  it  really  the  mystery  of  a  trade,  or  craft.  So  that 
in  this  latter  part  of  verse  19.  God  is  said  to  take  the  wise  in 
iheir  own  craftiness. 

In  short,  it  is  a  kind  of  trick  or  sleight,  got  not  by  study, 
but  converse,  learned  not  from  books,  but  men;  and  those 
also,  for  the  most  part,  the  very  worst  of  men  of  all  sorts, 
ways,  and  professions.  So  that  if  it  be  in  truth  such  a  pre 
cious  jewel  as  the  world  takes  it  for,  yet,  as  precious  as  it  is, 
we  see  that  they  are  forced  to  rake  it  out  of  dunghills ;  and 
accordingly  the  apostle  gives  it  a  value  suitable  to  its  extract, 
branding  it  with  the  most  degrading  and  ignominious  impu 
tation  of  foolishness.  Which  character  running  so  cross  to 
the  general  sense  and  vogue  of  mankind  concerning  it,  who 
are  still  admiring,  and  even  adoring  it,  as  the  mistress  and 
queen-regent  of  all  other  arts  whatsoever,  our  business,  in  the 
following  discourse,  shall  be  to  inquire  into  the  reason  of  the 
apostle's  passing  so  severe  a  remark  upon  it :  and  here,  indeed, 
since  we  must  allow  it  for  an  art,  and  since  every  art  is  prop 
erly  an  habitual  knowledge  of  certain  rules  and  maxims,  by 
which  a  man  is  governed  and  directed  in  his  actions,  the 
prosecution  of  the  words  will  most  naturally  lie  in  these  two 
things : 

I.  To   show  what  are  those  rules  or  principles  of  action, 
upon  which  the  policy  or  wisdom   here   condemned  by  the 
apostle  does  proceed. 

II.  To  show  and  demonstrate  the  folly  and   absurdity  of 
them,  in  relation  to  God,  in  whose  account  they  receive  a  very 
different  estimate  from  what  they  have  in  the  world's. 

And  first,  for  the  first  of  these  ;  I  shall  set  down  four  sev 
eral  rules  or  principles,  which  that  policy  or  wisdom,  which 


170  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  [SEKM.  IX. 

carries  so  great  a  vogue  and  value  in  the  world,  governs  its 
actions  by. 

1.  The  first  is.  That  a  man  must  maintain  a  constant  con 
tinued  course  of  dissimulation,  in  the  whole  tenor  of  his  be 
havior.  Where  yet,  we  must  observe,  that  dissimulation 
admits  of  a  twofold  acception.  (1.)  It  may  be  taken  for  a 
bare  concealment  of  one's  mind :  in  which  sense  we  com 
monly  say,  that  it  is  prudence  to  dissemble  injuries,  that  is, 
not  always  to  declare  our  resentments  of  them ;  and  this 
must  be  allowed  not  only  lawful,  but,  in  most  of  the  affairs  of 
human  life,  absolutely  necessary :  for  certainly  it  can  be  no 
man's  duty  to  write  his  heart  upon  his  forehead,  and  to  give 
all  the  inquisitive  and  malicious  world  round  about  him  a 
survey  of  those  thoughts  which  it  is  the  prerogative  of  God 
only  to  know,  and  his  own  great  interest  to  conceal.  Nature 
gives  every  one  a  right  to  defend  himself,  and  silence  surely 
is  a  very  innocent  defence. 

(2.)  Dissimulation  is  taken  for  a  man's  positive  professing 
himself  to  be  what  indeed  he  is  not,  and  what  he  resolves  not 
to  be ;  and  consequently  it  employs  all  the  art  and  industry 
imaginable,  to  make  good  the  disguise  ;  and  by  false  appear 
ances  to  render  its  designs  the  less  visible,  that  so  they  may 
prove  the  more  effectual :  and  this  is  the  dissimulation  here 
meant,  which  is  the  very  groundwork  of  all  worldly  policy. 
The  superstructure  of  which  being  folly,  it  is  but  reason  that 
the  foundation  of  it  should  be  falsity. 

In  the  language  of  the  scripture  it  is  damnable  hypocrisy ; 
but  of  those  who  neither  believe  scripture  nor  damnation,  it  is 
voted  wisdom ;  nay,  the  very  primum  mobile,  or  great  wheel, 
upon  which  all  the  various  arts  of  policy  move  and  turn  :  the 
soul,  or  spirit,  which,  as  it  were,  animates  and  runs  through 
all  the  particular  designs  and  contrivances  by  which  the  great 
masters  of  this  mysterious  wisdom  turn  about  the  world.  So 
that  he  who  hates  his  neighbor  mortally,  and  wisely  too,  must 
profess  all  the  dearness  and  friendship,  all  the  readiness  to 
serve  him,  (as  the  phrase  now  is,)  that  words  and  superficial 
actions  can  express. 

When  he  purposes  one  thing,  he  must  swear  and  lie,  and 
damn  himself  with  ten  thousand  protestations,  that  he  designs 
the  clean  contrary.  If  he  really  intends  to  ruin  and  murder 


i  COR.  iii.  19.]  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  171 

his  prince,  (as  Cromwell,  an  experienced  artist  in  that  perfid 
ious  and  bloody  faculty,  once  did,)  he  must  weep  and  call  upon 
God,  use  all  the  oaths  and  imprecations,  all  the  sanctified  per 
juries,  to  persuade  him  that  he  resolves  nothing  but  his  safety, 
honor,  and  establishment,  as  the  same  grand  exemplar  of 
hypocrisy  did  before. 

If  such  persons  project  the  ruin  of  church  and  state,  they 
must  appeal  to  God,  the  searcher  of  all  hearts,  that  they  are 
ready  to  sacrifice  their  dearest  blood  for  the  peace  of  the  one 
and  the  purity  of  the  other. 

And  now,  if  men  will  be  prevailed  upon  so  far  as  to  re 
nounce  the  sure  and  impartial  judgments  of  sense  and  experi 
ence,  and  to  believe  that  black  is  white,  provided  there  be 
somebody  to  swear  that  it  is  so ;  they  shall  not  want  argu 
ments  of  this  sort,  good  store,  to  convince  them :  there  being 
knights  of  the  post,  and  holy  cheats  enough  in  the  world,  to 
swear  the  truth  of  the  broadest  contradictions,  and  the  high 
est  impossibilities,  where  interest  and  pious  frauds  shall  give 
them  an  extraordinary  call  to  it. 

It  is  looked  upon  as  a  great  piece  of  weakness  and  unfit- 
ness  for  business,  forsooth,  for  a  man  to  be  so  clear  and  open 
as  really  to  think,  not  only  what  he  says,  but  what  he  swears ; 
and  when  he  makes  any  promise,  to  have  the  least  intent 
of  performing  it,  but  when  his  interest  serves  instead  of 
veracity,  and  engages  him  rather  to  be  true  to  another  than 
false  to  himself.  He  only  nowadays  speaks  like  an  oracle, 
who  speaks  tricks  and  ambiguities.  Nothing  is  thought 
beautiful  that  is  not  painted  :  so  that,  what  between  French 
fashions  and  Italian  dissimulations,  the  old,  generous  English 
spirit,  which  heretofore  made  this  nation  so  great  in  the  eyes 
of  all  the  world  round  about  it,  seems  utterly  lost  and  ex 
tinct  ;  and  we  are  degenerated  into  a  mean,  sharking,  falla 
cious,  undermining  way  of  converse ;  there  being  a  snare 
and  a  trepan  almost  in  every  word  we  hear,  and  every  action 
we  see.  Men  speak  with  designs  of  mischief,  and  therefore 
they  speak  in  the  dark.  In  short,  this  seems  to  be  the  true, 
inward  judgment  of  all  our  politic  sages,  that  speech  was 
given  to  the  ordinary  sort  of  men,  whereby  to  communicate 
their  mind  ;  but  to  wise  men,  whereby  to  conceal  it. 

2.  The  second  rule  or  principle  upon  which  this  policy,  or 


172  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  [SERM.  IX. 

wisdom  of  the  world,  does  proceed,  is,  That  conscience  and 
religion  ought  to  lay  no  restraint  upon  men  at  all,  when  it 
lies  opposite  to  the  prosecution  of  their  interest. 

The  great  patron  and  coryphaeus  of  this  tribe,  Nicolas 
Machiavel,  laid  down  this  for  a  master  rule  in  his  political 
scheme,  That  the  show  of  religion  was  helpful  to  the  poli 
tician,  but  the  reality  of  it  hurtful  and  pernicious.  Accord 
ingly,  having  shown  how  the  former  part  of  his  maxim  has 
been  followed  by  these  men  in  that  first  and  fundamental 
principle  of  dissimulation  already  spoken  to  by  us,  we  come 
now  to  show  further,  that  they  can  not  with  more  art  dissem 
ble  the  appearance  of  religion  than  they  can  with  ease  lay 
aside  the  substance. 

The  politician,  whose  very  essence  lies  in  this,  that  he  be 
a  person  ready  to  do  any  thing  that  he  apprehends  for  his 
advantage,  must  first  of  all  be  sure  to  put  himself  into  a 
state  of  liberty,  as  free  and  large  as  his  principles*,  and  so 
to  provide  elbow-room  enough  for  his  conscience  to  lay  about, 
and  have  its  full  play  in.  And  for  that  purpose,  he  must  re 
solve  to  shake  off  all  inward  awe  of  religion,  and  by  no  means 
to  suffer  the  liberty  of  his  conscience  to  be  enslaved,  and 
brought  under  the  bondage  of  observing  oaths,  or  the  nar 
rowness  of  men's  opinions,  about  turpe  et  honestum,  which 
ought  to  vanish  when  they  stand  in  competition  with  any 
solid,  real  good  ;  that  is,  (in  their  judgment,)  such  as  concerns 
eating,  or  drinking,  or  taking  money. 

Upon  which  account,  these  children  of  darkness  seem  ex 
cellently  well  to  imitate  the  wisdom  of  those  children  of 
light,  the  great  illuminati  of  the  late  times,  who  professedly 
laid  down  this  as  the  basis  of  all  their  proceedings;  That 
whatsoever  they  said  or  did  for  the  present,  under  such  a 
measure  of  light,  should  oblige  them  no  longer  when  a 
greater  measure  of  light  should  give  them  other  discoveries. 

And  this  principle,  they  professed,  was  of  great  use  to 
them ;  as  how  could  it  be  otherwise,  if  it  fell  into  skillful 
hands  ?  For  since  this  light  was  to  rest  within  them,  and 
'the  judgment  of  it  to  remain  wholly  in  themselves,  they 
might  safely  and  uncontrollably  pretend  it  greater  or  less,  as 
their  occasions  should  enlighten  them. 

If  a  man  has  a  prospect  of  a  fair  estate,  and  sees  a  way 


i  COR.  iii.  19.]  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  173 

open  to  it,  but  it  must  be  through  fraud,  violence,  and  op 
pression  ;  if  he  see  large  preferments  tendered  him,  but  con 
ditionally  upon  his  doing  base  and  wicked  offices ;  if  he  sees 
he  may  crush  his  enemy,  but  that  it  must  be  by  slandering, 
belying,  and  giving  him  a  secret  blow ;  and  conscience  shall 
here,  according  to  its  office,  interpose,  and  protest  the  il 
legality  and  injustice  of  such  actions,  and  the  damnation 
that  is  expressly  threatened  to  them  by  the  word  of  God ; 
the  thorough-paced  politician  must  presently  laugh  at  the 
squeamishness  of  his  conscience,  and  read  it  another  lecture, 
and  tell  it,  thai  just  and  unjust  are  but  names  grounded  only 
upon  opinion,  and  authorized  by  custom,  by  which  the  wise 
and  the  knowing  part  of  the  world  serve  themselves  upon 
the  ignorant  and  easy;  and  that,  whatsoever  fond  priests 
may  talk,  there  is  no  devil  like  an  enemy  in  power,  no  dam 
nation  like  being  poor,  and  no  hell  like  an  empty  purse ;  and 
therefore,  that  those  courses,  by  which  a  man  comes  to  rid 
himself  of  these  plagues,  are  ipso  facto  prudent,  and  conse 
quently  pious :  the  former  being,  with  such  wise  men,  the 
only  measure  of  the  latter.  And  the  truth  is,  the  late  times 
of  confusion,  in  which  the  bights  and  refinements  of  relig 
ion  were  professed  in  conjunction  with  the  practice  of  the 
most  execrable  villainies  that  were  ever  acted  upon  the  earth  ; 
and  the  weakness  of  our  church  discipline  since  its  restora 
tion,  whereby  it  has  been  scarce  able  to  get  any  hold  on 
men's  consciences,  and  much  less  able  to  keep  it ;  and  the 
great  prevalence  of  that  atheistical  doctrine  of  the  Levia 
than,  and  the  unhappy  propagation  of  Erastianism ;  these 
things,  I  say,  with  some  others,  have  been  the  sad  and  fatal 
causes  that  have  loosed  the  bands  of  conscience,  and  eaten 
out  the  very  heart  and  sense  of  Christianity  amongst  us,  to 
that  degree,  that  there  is  now  scarce  any  religious  tie  or  re 
straint  upon  persons,  but  merely  from  those  faint  remainders 
of  natural  conscience  which  God  will  be  sure  to  keep  alive 
upon  the  hearts  of  men,  as  long  as  they  are  men,  for  the 
great  ends  of  his  own  providence,  whether  they  will  or  no. 
So  that,  were  it  not  for  this  sole  obstacle,  religion  is  not  now 
so  much  in  danger  of  being  divided,  and  torn  piecemeal  by 
sects  and  factions,  as  of  being  at  once  devoured  by  atheism. 
Which  being  so,  let  none  wonder  that  irreligion  is  accounted 


174  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  [SERM.  ix. 

policy,  when  it  is  grown  even  to  a  fashion ;  and  passes  for 
wit  with  some,  as  well  as  for  wisdom  with  others.  For  cer 
tain  it  is,  that  advantage  now  sits  in  the  room  of  conscience, 
and  steers  all :  and  no  man  is  esteemed  any  ways  considerable 
for  policy,  who  wears  religion  otherwise  than  as  a  cloak,  that 
is,  as  such  a  garment  as  may  both  cover  and  keep  him  warm, 
and  yet  hang  loose  upon  him  too. 

3.  The  third  rule  or  principle  upon  which  this  policy,  or 
wisdom  of  the  world,  proceeds,  is,  That  a  man  ought  to  make 
himself,  and  not  the  public,  the  chief,  if  not  the  sole  end  of 
all  his  actions.  He  is  to  be  his  own  centre  and  circumference 
too  :  that  is,  to  draw  all  things  to  himself,  and  to  extend 
nothing  beyond  himself:  he  is  to  make  the  greater  world 
serve  the  less ;  and  not  only  not  to  love  his  neighbor  as  him 
self,  but  indeed  to  account  none  for  his  neighbor  but  himself. 

And  therefore,  to  die  or  suffer  for  his  country,  is  not  only 
exploded  by  him  as  a  great  paradox  in  politics,  and  fitter  for 
poets  to  sing  of  than  for  wise  men  to  practice ;  but  also,  to 
make  himself  so  much  as  one  penny  the  poorer,  or  to  forbear 
one  base  gain  to  serve  his  prince,  to  secure  a  whole  nation, 
or  to  credit  a  church,  is  judged  by  him  a  great  want  of  expe 
rience,  and  a  piece  of  romantic  melancholy,  unbecoming  a 
politician ;  who  is  still  to  look  upon  himself  as  his  prince,  ,his 
country,  his  church,  nay,  and  his  God  too. 

The  general  interest  of  the  nation  is  nothing  to  him,  but 
only  that  portion  of  it  that  he  either  does  or  would  possess. 
It  is  not  the  rain  that  waters  the  whole  earth,  but  that  which 
falls  into  his  own  cistern,  that  must  relieve  him :  not  the 
common,  but  the  enclosure,  that  must  make  him  rich. 

Let  the  public  sink  or  swim,  so  long  as  he  can  hold  up  his 
head  above  water :  let  the  ship  be  cast  away,  if  he  may  but 
have  the  benefit  of  the  wreck  :  let  the  government  be  ruined 
by  his  avarice,  if  by  the  same  avarice  he  can  scrape  together 
so  much  as  to  make  his  peace,  and  maintain  him  as  well 
under  another :  let  foreigners  invade  and  spoil  the  land,  so 
long  as  he  has  a  good  estate  in  bank  elsewhere.  Peradven- 
ture,  for  all  this,  men  may  curse  him  as  a  covetous  wretch,  a 
traitor,  and  a  villain  :  but  such  words  are  to  be  looked  upon 
only  as  the  splendid  declaimings  of  novices,  and  men  of  heat, 
who,  while  they  rail  at  his  person,  perhaps  envy  his  fortune  : 


i  COR.  iii.  19.]  The  Wisdam  of  this  World.  175 

or  possibly  of  losers  and  malcontents,  whose  portion  and  in 
heritance  is  a  freedom  to  speak.  But  a  politician  must  be 
above  words.  Wealth,  he  knows,  answers  all,  and  if  it  brings 
a  storm  upon  him,  will  provide  him  also  a  coat  to  weather  it 
out. 

That  such  thoughts  and  principles  as  these  lie  at  the  bot 
tom  of  most  men's  actions ;  at  the  bottom,  do  I  say  ?  nay,  sit 
at  the  top,  and  visibly  hold  the  helm  in  the  management  of 
the  weightiest  affairs  of  most  nations,  we  need  not  much  his 
tory,  nor  curiosity  of  observation,  to  convince  us  :  for  though 
there  have  not  been  wanting  such  heretofore,  as  have  prac 
ticed  these  unworthy  arts,  (forasmuch  as  there  have  been 
villains  in  all  places  and  all  ages,)  yet  nowadays  they  are 
owned  above-board ;  and  whereas  men  formerly  had  then  in 
design,  amongst  us  they  are  openly  vouched,  argued,  and  as 
serted  in  common  discourse. 

But  this,  I  confess,  being  a  new,  unexemplified  kind  of 
policy,  scarce  comes  up  to  that  which  the  apostle  here  con 
demns  for  the  wisdom  of  the  world,  but  must  pass  rather  for 
the  wisdom  of  this  particular  age,  which,  as  in  most  other 
things  it  stands  alone,  scorning  the  examples  of  all  former 
ages,  so  it  has  a  way  of  policy  and  wisdom  also  peculiar  to 
itself. 

4.  The  fourth  and  last  principle  that  I  shall  mention,  upon 
which  this  wisdom  of  the  world  proceeds,  is  this  : 

That  in  showing  kindness,  or  doing  favors,  no  respect  at  all 
is  to  be  had  to  friendship,  gratitude,  or  sense  of  honor ;  but 
that  such  favors  are  to  be  done  only  to  the  rich  or  potent, 
from  whom  a  man  may  receive  a  further  advantage,  or  to  his 
enemies,  from  whom  he  may  otherwise  fear  a  mischief. 

I  have  here  mentioned  gratitude,  and  sense  of  honor,  being 
(as  I  may  so  speak)  a  man's  civil  conscience,  prompting  him 
to  many  things,  upon  the  accounts  of  common  decency,  which 
religion  would  otherwise  bind  him  to,  upon  the  score  of  duty. 
And  it  is  sometimes  found  that  some,  who  have  little  or  no 
reverence  for  religion,  have  yet  those  innate  seeds  and  sparks 
of  generosity  as  make  them  scorn  to  do  such  things  as  would 
render  them  mean  in  the  opinion  of  sober  and  worthy  men  ; 
and  with  such  persons,  shame  is  instead  of  piety,  to  restrain 
them  from  many  base  and  degenerous  practices. 


176  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  [SERM.  ix. 

But  now  our  politician,  having  baffled  his  greater  conscience, 
must  not  he  nonplused  with  inferior  obligations  ;  and  having 
leaped  over  such  mountains,  at  length  poorly  lie  down  before 
a  mole-hill :  but  he  must  add  perfection  to  perfection ;  and 
being  past  grace,  endeavor,  if  need  be,  to  be  past  shame  too. 
And  accordingly  he  looks  upon  friendship,  gratitude,  and 
sense  of  honor,  as  terms  of  art  to  amuse  and  impose  upon 
weak,  undesigning  minds.  For  an  enemy's  money,  he  thinks, 
may  be  made  as  good  a  friend  as  any ;  and  gratitude  looks 
backward,  but  policy  forward :  and  for  sense  of  honor,  if  it 
impoverisheth  a  man,  it  is,  in  his  esteem,  neither  honor  nor 
sense. 

Whence  it  is,  that  nowadays  only  rich  men  or  enemies  are 
accounted  the  rational  objects  of  benefaction.  For  to  be  kind 
to  the  former  is  traffic ;  and  in  these  times  men  present,  just 
as  they  soil  their  ground,  not  that  they  love  the  dirt,  but  that 
they  expect  a  crop  :  and  for  the  latter,  the  politician  well  ap 
proves  of  the  Indian's  religion,  in  worshiping  the  devil,  that 
he  may  do  him  no  hurt ;  how  much  soever  he  hates  him,  and 
is  hated  by  him. 

But  if  a  poor,  old,  decayed  friend  or  relation,  whose  purse, 
whose  house  and  heart  had  been  formerly  free  and  open  to 
such  an  one,  shall  at  length  upon  change  of  fortune  come  to 
him  with  hunger  and  rags,  pleading  his  past  services  and  his 
present  wants,  and  so  crave  some  relief  of  one,  for  the  merit 
and  memory  of  the  other ;  the  politician,  who  imitates  the 
serpent's  wisdom,  must  turn  his  deaf  ear  too,  to  all  the  insig 
nificant  charms  of  gratitude  and  honor,  in  behalf  of  such  a 
bankrupt,  undone  friend,  who  having  been  already  used,  and 
now  squeezed  dry,  is  fit  only  to  be  cast  aside.  He  must  ab 
hor  gratitude  as  a  worse  kind  of  witchcraft,  which  only  serves 
to  conjure  up  the  pale,  meagre  ghosts  of  dead,  forgotten 
kindnesses,  to  haunt  and  trouble  him ;  still  respecting  what 
is  past ;  whereas  such  wise  men  as  himself,  in  such  cases, 
account  all  that  is  past  to  be  also  gone;  and  know  that 
there  can  be  no  gain  in  refunding,  nor  any  profit  in  paying 
debts.  The  sole  measure  of  all  his  courtesies  is,  what  return 
they  will  make  him,  and  what  revenue  they  will  bring  him  in. 
His  expectations  govern  his  charity.  And  we  must  not  vouch 
any  man  for  an  exact  master  in  the  rules  of  our  modern 


i  COR.  iii.  19.]  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  177 

policy,  but  such  an  one  as  hath  brought  himself  so  far  to  hate 
and  despise  the  absurdity  of  being  kind  upon  free  cost,  as  (to 
use  a  known  expression)  not  so  much  as  to  tell  a  friend  what 
it  is  a  clock  for  nothing. 

And  thus  I  have  finished  the  first  general  head  proposed 
from  the  text,  and  shown  some  of  those  rules,  principles,  and 
maxims  that  this  wisdom  of  the  world  acts  by :  I  say  some 
of  them,  for  I  neither  pretend  nor  desire  to  know  them  all. 

II.  I  come  now  to  the  other  general  head,  which  is,  to 
show  the  folly  and  absurdity  of  these  principles  in  relation  to 
God.  In  order  to  which  we  must  observe  that  foolishness, 
being  porperly  a  man's  deviation  from  right  reason  in  point 
of  practice,  must  needs  consist  in  one  of  these  two  things  : 

1.  In  his  pitching  upon  such  an  end  as  is  unsuitable  to  his 
condition ;  or, 

2.  In  his  pitching  upon  means  unsuitable  to  the  compass 
ing  of  his  end. 

There  is  folly  enough  in  either  of  these ;  and  my  business 
shall  be  to  show,  that  such  as  act  by  the  forementioned  rules 
of  worldly  wisdom  are  eminently  foolish  upon  both  accounts. 

1.  And  first,  for  that  first  sort  of  foolishness  imputable  to 
them ;  namely,  that  a  man,  by  following  such  principles, 
pitches  upon  that  for  his  end  which  noways  suits  his  con 
dition. 

Certain  it  is,  and  indeed  self-evident,  that  the  wisdom  of 
this  world  looks  no  further  than  this  world.  All  its  designs 
and  efficacy  terminate  on  this  side  heaven,  nor  does  policy  so 
much  as  pretend  to  any  more  than  to  be  the  great  art  of  rais 
ing  a  man  to  the  plenties,  glories,  and  grandeurs  of  the  world. 
And  if  it  arrives  so  far  as  to  make  a  man  rich,  potent,  and 
honorable,  it  has  its  end,  and  has  done  its  utmost.  But  now 
that  a  man  can  not  rationally  make  these  things  his  end,  will 
appear  from  these  two  considerations  : 

(1.)  That  they  reach  not  the  measure  of  his  duration  or 
being ;  the  perpetuity  of  which  surviving  this  mortal  state, 
and  shooting  forth  into  the  endless  eternities  of  another 
world,  must  needs  render  a  man  infinitely  miserable  and  for 
lorn,  if  he  has  no  other  comforts  but  what  he  must  leave 
behind  him  in  this.  For  nothing  can  make  a  man  happy, 
but  that  which  shall  last  as  long  as  he  lasts.  And  all  these 

VOL.  I.  12 


178  Tlie  Wisdom  of  this  World.  [SEEM.  IX. 

enjoyments  are  much  too  short  for  an  immortal  soul  to  stretch 
itself  upon,  which  shall  persist  in  being,  not  only  when  profit, 
pleasure,  and  honor,  but  when  time  itself  shall  cease,  and  he 
no  more. 

No  man  can  transport  his  large  retinue,  his  sumptuous  fare, 
and  his  rich  furniture  into  another  world.  Nothing  of  all 
these  things  can  continue  with  him  then,  but  the  memory 
of  them.  And  surely  the  bare  remembrance  that  a  man 
was  formerly  rich  or  great  can  not  make  him  at  all  happier 
there,  where  an  infinite  happiness  or  an  infinite  misery  shall 
equally  swallow  up  the  sense  of  these  poor  felicities.  It  may 
indeed  contribute  to  his  misery,  heighten  the  anguish,  and 
sharpen  the  sting  of  conscience,  and  so  add  fury  to  the  ever 
lasting  flames,  when  he  shall  reflect  upon  the  abuse  of  all  that 
wealth  and  greatness  that  the  good  providence  of  God  had 
put  as  a  price  into  his  hand  for  worthier  purposes,  than  to 
damn  his  nobler  and  better  part,  only  to  please  and  gratify 
his  worse.  But  the  politician  has  an  answer  ready  for  all 
these  melancholy  considerations ;  that  he,  for  his  part,  be 
lieves  none  of  these  things  ;  as  that  there  is  either  a  heaven, 
or  a  hell,  or  an  immortal  soul.  No,  he  is  too  great  a  friend 
to  real  knowledge,  to  take  such  troublesome  assertions  as 
these  upon  trust.  Which  if  it  be  his  belief,  as  no  doubt  it  is, 
let  him  for  me  continue  in  it  still,  and  stay  for  its  confutation 
in  another  world;  which  if  he  can  destroy  by  disbelieving, 
his  infidelity  will  do  him  better  service  than  as  yet  he  has 
any  cause  to  presume  that  it  can.  But, 

(2.)  Admitting  that  either  these  enjoyments  were  eternal, 
or  the  soul  mortal,  and  so,  that  one  way  or  other  they  were 
commensurate  to  its  duration,  yet  still  they  can  not  be  an 
end  suitable  to  a  rational  nature,  forasmuch  as  they  fill  not 
the  measure  of  its  desires.  The  foundation  of  all  man's  un- 
happiness  here  on  earth,  is  the  great  disproportion  between 
his  enjoyments  and  his  appetites  ;  which  appears  evidently  in 
this,  that  let  a  man  have  never  so  much,  he  is  still  desiring 
something  or  other  more.  Alexander,  we  know,  was  much 
troubled  at  the  scantiness  of  nature  itself,  that  there  were  no 
more  worlds  for  him  to  disturb :  and  in  this  respect,  every 
man  living  has  a  soul  as  great  as  Alexander,  and,  put  under 
the  same  circumstances,  would  own  the  very  same  dissatis 
factions. 


i  COR.  iii.  19.]  TJie  Wisdom  of  this  World.  179 

Now  this  is  most  certain,  that  in  spiritual  natures,  so  much 
as  there  is  of  desire,  so  much  there  is  also  of  capacity  to  re 
ceive.  I  do  not  say  there  is  always  a  capacity  to  receive  the 
very  thing  they  desire,  for  that  may  be  impossible :  but  for 
the  degree  of  happiness  that  they  propose  to  themselves  from 
that  thing,  this  I  say  they  are  capable  of.  And  as  God  is 
said  to  have  made  man  after  his  own  image,  so  upon  this 
quality  he  seems  peculiarly  to  have  stampt  the  resemblance 
of  his  infinity.  For  man  seems  as  boundless  in  his  desires 
as  God  is  in  his  being ;  and  therefore  nothing  but  God  him 
self  can  satisfy  him.  But  the  great  inequality  of  all  things 
else  to  the  appetites  of  a  rational  soul  appears  yet  further 
from  this ;  that  in  all  these  worldly  things,  that  a  man  pur 
sues  with  the  greatest  eagerness  and  intention  of  mind  im 
aginable,  he  finds  not  half  the  pleasure  in  the  actual  posses 
sion  of  them,  that  he  proposed  to  himself  in  the  expecta 
tion.  Which  shows  that  there  is  a  great  cheat  or  lie  which 
overspreads  the  world,  while  all  things  here  below  beguile 
men's  expectations,  and  their  expectations  cheat  their  expe 
rience. 

Let  this  therefore  be  the  first  thing  in  which  the  foolish 
ness  of  this  worldly  wisdom  is  manifest.  Namely,  that  by  it 
a  man  proposes  to  himself  an  end  wholly  unsuitable  to  his 
condition ;  as  bearing  no  proportion  to  the  measure  of  his 
duration,  or  the  vastness  of  his  desires. 

2.  The  other  thing  in  which  foolishness  is  seen,  is  a  man's 
pitching  upon  means  unsuitable  to  that  which  he  has  made 
his  end. 

And  here  we  will,  for  the  present,  suppose  the  things  of 
the  world  to  have  neither  that  shortness  nor  emptiness  in 
them  that  we  have  indeed  proved  them  to  have.  But  that 
they  are  so  adequate  to  all  the  concerns  of  an  intelligent  na 
ture,  that  they  may  be  rationally  fixed  upon  by  men  as  the 
ultimate  end  of  all  their  designs :  yet  the  folly  of  this  wisdom 
appears  in  this,  that  it  suggests  those  means  for  the  acquisi 
tion  of  these  enjoyments,  that  are  noways  fit  to  compass  or 
acquire  them,  and  that  upon  a  double  account. 

(1.)  That  they  are  in  themselves  unable  and  insufficient  for, 
and, 

(2.)  That  they  are  frequently  opposite  to  a  successful  attain 
ment  of  them. 


180  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  [SKRM.  ix. 

(1.)  And  first  for  their  insufficiency.  Let  politicians  con 
trive  as  accurately,  project  as  deeply,  and  pursue  what  they 
have  thus  contrived  and  projected,  as  diligently  as  it  is  pos 
sible  for  human  wit  and  industry  to  do,  yet  still  the  success 
of  all  depends  upon  the  favor  of  an  overruling  hand.  For 
God  expressly  claims  it  as  a  special  part  of  his  prerogative,  to 
have  the  entire  disposal  of  riches,  honors,  and  whatsoever  else 
is  apt  to  command  the  desires  of  mankind  here  below ;  Deut. 
viii.  18.  It  is  the  Lord  thy  God  that  giveth  thee  power  to  get 
wealth.  And  in  1  Sam.  ii.  30.  God  peremptorily  declares  him 
self  the  sole  fountain  of  honor,  telling  us,  that  those  that 
honor  him  shall  be  honored,  and  tJiat  those  that  despise  him  shall 
be  lightly  esteemed. 

And  then  for  dignities  and  preferments,  we  have  the  word 
of  one  that  could  dispose  of  these  things  as  much  as  kings 
could  do,  Prov.  xxix.  26,  where  he  tells  us,  that  many  seek 
the  ruler's  favor  :  that  is,  apply  themselves  both  to  his  inter 
est  and  humor,  with  all  the  arts  of  flattery  and  obsequious 
ness,  the  surest  and  the  readiest  ways  (one  would  think)  to 
advance  a  man;  and  yet,  after  all,  it  follows  in  the  next 
words,  that  every  man's  judgment  cometh  of  the  Lord.  And 
that,  whatsoever  may  be  expected  here,  it  is  resolved  only  in 
the  court  of  heaven,  whether  the  man  shall  proceed  favorite 
in  the  courts  of  princes,  and  after  all  his  artificial  attendance 
come  to  sit  at  the  right  hand,  or  be  made  a  footstool.  So 
that  upon  full  trial  of  all  the  courses  that  policy  could  either 
devise  or  practice,  the  most  experienced  masters  of  it  have 
been  often  forced  to  sit  down  with  that  complaint  of  the  dis 
ciples,  We  have  toiled  all  night,  and  have  caught  nothing.  For 
do  we  not  sometimes  see  that  traitors  can  be  out  of  favor,  and 
knaves  be  beggars,  and  lose  their  estates,  and  be  stript  of 
their  offices,  as  well  as  honester  men  ? 

And  why  all  this?  Surely  not  always  for  want  of  craft 
to  spy  out  where  their  game  lay,  nor  yet  for  want  of  irrelig- 
ion  to  give  them  all  the  scope  of  ways  lawful  and  unlawful 
to  prosecute  their  intentions  ;  but  because  the  providence 
of  God  strikes  not  in  with  them,  but  dashes,  and  even  dis 
pirits  all  their  endeavors,  and  makes  their  designs  heartless 
and  ineffectual.  So  that  it  is  not  their  seeing  this  man,  their 
belying  another,  nor  their  sneaking  to  a  third,  that  shall  be 


l  COB.  iii.  19.]  Tlie  Wisdom  of  this  World.  181 

able  to  do  their  business,  when  the  designs  of  Heaven  will 
be  served  by  their  disappointment.  And  this  is  the  true 
cause  why  so  many  politic  conceptions,  so  elaborately  formed 
and  wrought,  and  grown  at  length  ripe  for  delivery,  do  yet 
in  the  issue  miscarry  and  prove  abortive  ;  for,  being  come  to 
the  birth,  the  all-disposing  providence  of  God  denies  them 
strength  to  bring  forth.  And  thus  the  authors  of  them,  hav 
ing  missed  of  their  mighty  aims,  are  fain  to  retreat  with 
frustration  and  a  baffle;  and  having  played  the  knaves  un 
successfully,  to  have  the  ill  luck  to  pass  for  fools  too. 

(2.)  The  means  suggested  by  policy  and  worldly  wisdom 
for  the  attainment  of  these  earthly  enjoyments  are  unfit  for 
that  purpose,  not  only  upon  the  account  of  their  insufficiency 
for,  but  also  of  their  frequent  opposition  and  contrariety  to, 
the  accomplishment  of  such  ends ;  nothing  being  more  usual 
than  for  these  unchristian  fishers  of  men  to  be  fatally  caught 
in  their  own  nets :  for  does  not  the  text  expressly  say,  that 
God  taketli  the  wise  in  their  own  craftiness  ?  And  has  not  our 
own  experience  sufficiently  commented  upon  the  text,  when 
we  have  seen  some  by  the  very  same  ways  by  which  they  had 
designed  to  rise  uncontrollably,  and  to  clear  off  all  obstruc 
tions  before  their  ambition,  to  have  directly  procured  their 
utter  downfall,  and  to  have  broke  their  necks  from  that  very 
ladder  by  which  they  had  thought  to  have  climbed  as  high 
as  their  father  Lucifer ;  and  there  from  the  top  of  all  their 
greatness  to  have  looked  down  with  scorn  upon  all  below 
them  ? 

Such  persons  are  the  proper  and  lawful  objects  of  derision, 
forasmuch  as  God  himself  laughs  at  them. 

Hainan  wanted  nothing  to  complete  his  greatness  but  a 
gallows  upon  which  to  hang  Mordecai ;  but  it  mattered  not 
for  whom  he  provided  the  gallows,  when  Providence  designed 
the  rope  for  him. 

With  what  contempt  does  the  apostle  here,  in  the  20th 
verse  of  this  third  chapter  of  the  first  epistle  to  the  Corin 
thians,  repeat  those  words  of  the  psalmist,  concerning  all  the 
fine  artifices  of  worldly  wisdom ;  Tlie  Lord,  says  he,  knoweth 
the  thoughts  of  the  wise  that  they  are  vain.  All  their  contriv 
ances  are  but  thin,  slight,  despicable  things,  and,  for  the 
most  part,  destructive  of  themselves ;  nothing  being  more 


182  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  [SERM.  ix. 

equal  in  justice,  and  indeed  more  natural  in  the  direct  conse 
quence  and  connection  of  effects  and  causes,  than  for  men 
wickedly  wise  to  outwit  themselves,  and  for  such  as  wrestle 
with  Providence,  to  trip  up  their  own  heels. 

It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  the  charge  of  this  second  sort  of 
foolishness  is  made  good  upon  worldly  wisdom ;  for  that  hav 
ing  made  men  pitch  upon  an  end  unfit  for  their  condition,  it 
also  makes  them  pitch  upon  means  unfit  to  attain  that  end. 
And  that  both  by  reason  of  their  inability  for,  and  frequent 
contrariety  to,  the  bringing  about  such  designs. 

This,  I  say,  has  been  made  good  in  the  general ;  but  since 
particulars  convince  with  greater  life  and  evidence,  we  will 
resume  the  foremen tioned  principles  of  the  politician,  and 
show  severally  in  each  of  them,  how  little  efficacy  they  have 
to  advance  the  practicers  of  them  to  the  things  they  aspire 
to  by  them. 

1.  And  first,  for  his  first  principle,  That  the  politician  must 
maintain  a  constant,  habitual  dissimulation.  Concerning 
which  I  shall  lay  down  this  as  certain ;  that  dissimulation  can 
be  no  further  useful  than  it  is  concealed,  forasmuch  as  no 
man  will  trust  a  known  cheat :  and  it  is  also  as  certain,  that 
as  some  men  use  dissimulation  for  their  interest,  so  others 
have  an  interest  as  strongly  engaging  them  to  use  all  the  art 
and  industry  they  can  to  find  it  out ;  and  to  assure  themselves 
of  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  those  with  whom  they  deal,  which 
renders  it  infinitely  hard,  if  not  morally  impossible,  for  a  man 
to  carry  on  a  constant  course  of  dissimulation  without  dis 
covery.  And  being  once  discovered,  it  is  not  only  no  help, 
but  the  greatest  impediment  of  action  in  the  world.  For 
since  man  is  but  of  a  very  limited,  narrow  power  in  his  own 
person,  and  consequently  can  effect  no  great  matter  merely 
by  his  own  personal  strength,  but  as  he  acts  in  society  and 
conjunction  with  others,  without  first  engaging  their  trust ; 
and  moreover,  since  men  will  trust  no  further  than  they  judge 
a  person  for  his  sincerity  fit  to  be  trusted,  it  follows  that  a 
discovered  dissembler  can  achieve  nothing  great  or  consider 
able  ;  for  not  being  able  to  gain  men's  trust,  he  can  not  gain 
their  concurrence,  and  so  is  left  alone  to  act  singly,  and  upon 
his  own  bottom ;  and  while  that  is  the  sphere  of  his  activity, 
all  that  he  can  do  must  needs  be  contemptible.  We  know 


i  COR.  iii.  19.]  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  183 

how  successful  the  late  usurper  *  was,  while  his  army  believed 
him  real  in  his  zeal  against  kingship.  But  when  they  found 
out  the  imposture,  upon  his  aspiring  to  the  same  himself,  he 
was  presently  deserted,  and  opposed  by  them,  and  never  able 
to  crown  his  usurped  greatness  with  the  addition  of  that  title 
which  he  so  passionately  thirsted  after.  Add  to  this  the 
judgment  of  as  great  an  English  author  as  ever  wrote,  with 
great  confidence  affirming,  "  that  the  ablest  men  that  ever 
were,  had  all  an  openness  and  frankness  of  dealing ;  and  that, 
if  at  any  time  such  did  dissemble,  their  dissimulation  took 
effect  merely  in  the  strength  of  that  reputation  they  had 
gained  by  their  veracity  and  clear  dealing  in  the  main." 
From  all  which  it  follows,  that  dissimulation  can  be  of  no 
further  use  to  a  man  than  just  to  guard  him  within  the  com 
pass  of  his  own  personal  concerns ;  which  yet  may  be  more 
easily,  and  not  less  effectually  done,  by  that  silence  and  re- 
servedness  that  every  man  may  innocently  practice,  without 
the  putting  on  of  any  contrary  disguise. 

2.  The  politician's  second  principle  was,  That  conscience, 
or  religion,  ought  never  to  stand  between  any  man  and  his 
temporal  advantage.    Which  indeed  is  properly  atheism ;  and, 
so  far  as  it  is  practiced,  tends  to  the  dissolution  of  society, 
the  bond  of  which  is  religion.     Forasmuch  as  a  man's  happi 
ness  or  misery  in  his  converse  with  other  men  depends  chiefly 
upon  their  doing  or  not   doing  those   things  which  human 
laws  can  take  no  cognizance  of:  such  as  are  all  actions  capa 
ble  of  being  done  in  secret,  and  out  of  the  view  of  mankind, 
which  yet  have  the  greatest   influence   upon  our  neighbor, 
even  in  his  nearest  and  dearest  concerns.     And  if  there  be 
no  inward  sense  of  religion  to  awe  men  from  the  doing  unjust 
actions,  provided  they  can  do  them  without  discovery,  it  is 
impossible  for  any  man  to  sit  secure  or  happy  in  the  posses 
sion  of  any  thing  that  he  enjoys.     And   this  inconvenience 
the  politician  jnust  expect  from  others,  as  well  as  they  have 
felt  from  him,  unless  he  thinks  that  he  can  engross  this  prin 
ciple  to  his  own  practice,  and  that  others  can  not  be  as  false 
and  atheistical  as  himself,  especially  having  had  the  advan 
tage  of  his  copy  to  write  after. 

3.  The  third  principle  was,  That  the   politician   ought  to 

*  Cromwell. 


184  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  [SEKM.  ix. 

make  himself,  and  not  the  public,  the  chief,  if  not  the  sole 
end  of  all  that  he  does. 

But  here  we  shall  quickly  find  that  the  private  spirit  will 
prove  as  pernicious  in  temporals  as  ever  it  did  in  spirituals. 
For  while  every  particular  member  of  the  public  provides 
singly  and  solely  for  itself,  the  several  joints  of  the  body  pol 
itic  do  thereby  separate  and  disunite,  and  so  become  unable 
to  support  the  whole ;  and  when  the  public  interest  once  fails, 
let  private  interests  subsist  if  they  can,  and  prevent  an  uni 
versal  ruin  from  involving  in  it  particulars.  It  is  not  a  man's 
wealth  that  can  be  sure  to  save  him,  if  the  enemy  be  wise 
enough  to  refuse  part  of  it  tendered  as  a  ransom,  when  it  is 
as  easy  for  him  to  destroy  the  owner,  and  to  take  the  whole. 
When  the  hand  finds  itself  well  warmed  and  covered,  let  it 
refuse  the  trouble  of  feeding  the  mouth  or  guarding  the  head 
till  the  body  be  starved  or  killed,  and  then  we  shall  see  how 
it  will  fare  with  the  hand.  The  Athenians,  the  Romans,  and 
all  other  nations  that  grew  great  out  of  little  or  nothing,  did 
so  merely  by  the  public-mindedness  of  particular  persons; 
and  the  same  courses  that  first  raised  nations  and  govern 
ments  must  support  them.  So  that,  were  there  no  such  thing 
as  religion,  prudence  were  enough  to  enforce  this  upon  all. 

For  our  own  parts,  let  us  reflect  upon  our  glorious  and  re 
nowned  English  ancestors,  men  eminent  in  church  and  state, 
and  we  shall  find  that  this  was  the  method  by  which  they 
preserved  both. 

We  have  succeeded  into  their  labors,  and  the  fruits  of 
them  :  and  it  will  both  concern  and  become  us  to  succeed  also 
into  their  principles.  For  it  is  no  man's  duty  to  be  safe  or  to 
be  rich,  but  I  am  sure,  it  is  the  duty  of  every  one  to  make 
good  his  trust.  And  it  is  a  calamity  to  a  whole  nation,  that 
any  man  should  have  a  place  or  an  employment  more  large 
and  public  than  his  spirit. 

4.  The  fourth  and  last  principle  mentioned  was,  That  the 
politician  must  not,  in  doing  kindnesses,  consider  his  friends, 
but  only  gratify  rich  men  or  enemies.  Which  principle  (as 
to  that  branch  of  it  relating  to  enemies)  was  certainly  first 
borrowed  and  fetched  up  from  the  very  bottom  of  hell ;  and 
uttered,  no  doubt,  by  particular  and  immediate  inspiration 
of  the  devil.  And  yet  (as  much  of  the  devil  as  it  carries  in 


i  COB.  iii.  19.]  TJie  Wisdom  of  this  World.  185 

it)  it  neither  is  nor  can  be  more  villainous  and  detestable 
than  it  is  really  silly,  senseless,  and  impolitic. 

But  to  go  over  the  several  parts  of  this  principle ;  and  to 
begin  with  the  supposed  policy  of  gratifying  only  the  rich 
and  opulent.  Does  our  wise  man  think  that  the  grandee, 
whom  he  so  courts,  does  not  see  through  all  the  little  plots  of 
his  courtship  as  well  as  he  himself?  And  so,  at  the  same 
time  while  he  accepts  the  gift,  laugh  in  his  sleeve  at  the  de 
sign,  and  despise  the  giver  ? 

But,  for  the  neglect  of  friends,  as  it  is  the  hight  of  base 
ness,  so  it  can  never  be  proved  rational,  till  we  prove  the 
person  using  it  omnipotent  and  self-sufficient,  and  such  as 
can  never  need  any  mortal  assistance.  But  if  he  be  a  man, 
that  is,  a  poor,  weak  creature,  subject  to  change  and  misery, 
let  him  know  that  it  is  the  friend  only  that  God  has  made 
for  the  day  of  adversity,  as  the  most  suitable  and  sovereign 
help  that  humanity  is  capable  of.  And  those  (though  in 
highest  place)  who  slight  and  disoblige  their  friends,  shall 
infallibly  come  to  know  the  value  of  them,  by  having  none 
when  they  shall  most  need  them. 

That  prince  that  maintains  the  reputation  of  a  true,  fast, 
generous  friend,  has  an  army  always  ready  to  fight  for  him, 
maintained  to  his  hand  without  pay. 

As  for  the  other  part  of  this  principle,  that  concerns  the 
gratifying  of  enemies;  it  is  (to  say  no  more)  an  absurdity 
parallel  to  the  former.  For  when  a  man  shall  have  done  all 
he  can,  given  all  he  has,  to  oblige  an  enemy,  he  shall  find 
that  he  has  armed  him  indeed,  but  not  at  all  altered  him. 

The  scripture  bids  us  pray  for  our  enemies,  and  love  our 
enemies,  but  nowhere  does  it  bid  us  trust  our  enemies ;  nay, 
it  strictly  cautions  us  against  it,  Prov.  xxvi.  25.  When  he 
speaketh  thee  fair,  (says  the  text,)  believe  him  not ;  for  there  are 
yet  seven  abominations  in  his  heart :  and,  in  good  earnest,  it 
would  be  a  rarity  worth  the  seeing,  could  any  one  show  us 
such  a  thing  as  a  perfectly  reconciled  enemy.  Men  are  gen 
erally  credulous  at  first,  and  will  not  take  up  this  great  and 
safe  truth  at  the  cost  of  other  men's  experience,  till  they  come 
to  be  bitten  into  a  sense  of  it  by  their  own ;  but  are  apt  to 
take  fair  professions,  fawning  looks,  treats,  entertainments, 
visits,  and  such  like  pitiful  stuff,  for  friendship  and  reconcile- 


186  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  [SERM.  ix. 

ment,  and  so  to  admit  the  serpent  into  their  bosom  :  but  let 
them  come  once  to  depend  upon  this  new-made  friend,  or 
reconciled  enemy,  in  any  great  or  real  concern  of  life,  and 
they  shall  find  him  false  as  hell,  and  cruel  as  the  grave.  And 
T  know  nothing  more  to  be  wondered  at  than  that  those  rec 
oncilements  that  are  so  difficult,  and  even,  next  to  impossible 
in  the  effect,  should  yet  be  so  frequent  in  the  attempt ;  espe 
cially  since  the  reason  of  this  difficulty  lies  as  deep  as  nature 
itself;  which,  after  it  has  done  an  injury,  will  forever  be  sus 
picious  ;  and  I  would  fain  see  the  man  that  can  perfectly  love 
the  person  whom  he  suspects. 

There  is  a  noted  story  of  Hector  and  Ajax,  who,  having 
combated  one  another,  ended  that  combat  in  a  reconcilement, 
and  testified  that  reconcilement  by  mutual  presents  :  Hector 
giving  Ajax  a  sword,  and  Ajax  presenting  Hector  with  a  belt. 
The  consequence  of  which  was,  that  Ajax  slew  himself  with 
the  sword  given  him  by  Hector,  and  Hector  was  dragged 
about  the  walls  of  Troy  by  the  belt  given  him  by  Ajax.  Such 
are  the  gifts,  such  are  the  killing  kindnesses  of  reconciled 
enemies. 

Confident  men  may  try  what  conclusions  they  please,  at 
their  own  peril ;  but  let  history  be  consulted,  reason  heard, 
and  experience  called  in  to  speak  impartially  what  it  has 
found,  and  I  believe  they  will  all  with  one  voice  declare, 
that  whatsoever  the  grace  of  God  may  do  in  the  miraculous 
change  of  men's  hearts,  yet,  according  to  the  common 
methods  of  the  world,  a  man  may  as  well  expect  to  make 
the  devil  himself  his  friend,  as  an  enemy  that  has  given  him 
the  first  blow. 

And  thus  I  have  gone  over  the  two  general  heads  proposed 
from  the  words,  and  shown  both  what  those  principles  are 
upon  which  this  wisdom  of  the  world  does  proceed  ;  and  also 
wherein  the  folly  and  absurdity  of  them  does  consist. 

And  now  into  what  can  we  more  naturally  improve  the 
whole  foregoing  discourse,  than  into  that  practical  inference 
of  our  apostle,  in  the  verse  before  the  text  ?  that  if  any  man 
desires  the  reputation  of  wisdom,  he  should  become  a  fool,  that  he 
may  be  wise ;  that  is,  a  fool  to  the  world,  that  he  may  be  wise 
to  God. 

Let  us  not  be  ashamed  of  the  folly  of  being  sincere,  and 


i  COR.  iu.  19.]  The  Wisdom  of  this  World.  187 

without  guile ;  without  traps  and  snares  in  our  converse  ;  of 
being  fearful  to  build  our  estates  upon  the  ruin  of  our  con 
sciences  ;  of  preferring  the  public  good  before  our  own  private 
emolument;  and  lastly,  of  being  true  to  all  the  offices  of 
friendship,  the  obligations  of  which  are  sacred,  and  will  cer 
tainly  be  exacted  of  us  by  the  great  judge  of  all  our  actions. 
I  say,  let  us  not  blush  to  be  found  guilty  of  all  these  follies, 
(as  some  account  them,)  rather  than  to  be  expert  in  that  kind 
of  wisdom  that  God  himself,  the  great  fountain  of  wisdom, 
has  pronounced  to  be  earthly,  sensual,  devilish ;  and  of  the 
wretched  absurdity  of  which  all  histories,  both  ecclesiastical 
and  civil,  have  given  us  such  pregnant  and  convincing  ex 
amples. 

Reflect  upon  Ahithophel,  Haman,  Sejanus,  Caesar  Borgia, 
and  other  such  masters  of  the  arts  of  policy,  who  thought 
they  had  fixed  themselves  upon  so  sure  a  bottom,  that  they 
might  even  defy  and  dare  Providence  to  the  face;  and  yet 
how  did  God  bring  an  absolute  disappointment,  like  one  great 
blot,  over  all  their  fine,  artificial  contrivances ! 

Every  one  of  those  mighty  and  profound  sages  coming  to  a 
miserable  and  disastrous  end. 

The  consideration  of  which,  and  the  like  passages,  one 
would  think,  should  make  men  grow  weary  of  dodging  and 
showing  tricks  with  God  in  their  own  crooked  ways  :  and  even 
force  them  to  acknowledge  it  for  the  surest  and  most  unfail 
ing  prudence,  wholly  to  commit  their  persons  and  concerns  to 
the  wise  and  good  providence  of  God,  in  the  straight  and  open 
ways  of  his  own  commands. 

Who,  we  may  be  confident,  is  more  tenderly  concerned  for 
the  good  of  those  that  truly  fear  and  serve  him,  than  it  is 
possible  for  the  most  selfish  of  men  to  be  concerned  for  them 
selves  :  and  who,  in  all  the  troubles  and  disturbances,  all  the 
cross,  difficult,  and  perplexing  passages  that  can  fall  out,  will 
be  sure  to  guide  all  to  this  happy  issue,  that  all  things  shall 
work  together  for  good  to  those  that  love  God. 

To  which  God,  infinitely  wise,  holy,  and  just,  be  rendered 
and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise,  might,  majesty, 
and  dominion,  both  now  and  for  evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  X. 


A    SERMON    PREACHED  AT  CHRIST  CHURCH,    OXON, 
BEFORE  THE  UNIVERSITY,  MAY  3,  1685. 


2  COR.  viii.  12.  —  For  if  there  be  first  a  willing  mind,  it  is  accepted  according  to  that 
a  man  hath,  and  not  according  to  that  he  hath  not. 

IN  dealing  with  men's  consciences,  for  the  taking  them  off 
from  sin,  I  know  nothing  of  so  direct  and  efficacious  an 
influence  as  the  right  stating  of  those  general  rules  and 
principles  of  action  that  men  are  apt  to  guide  their  lives 
and  consciences  hy :  for  if  these 'he  true,  and  withal  rightly 
applied,  men  must  needs  proceed  upon  firm  and  safe  grounds ; 
hut  if  either  false  in  themselves,  or  not  right  in  their  par 
ticular  application,  the  whole  course  that  men  are  thereby 
engaged  in,  being  founded  in  sin  and  error,  must  needs  lead 
to,  and  at  length  end  in,  death  and  confusion :  there  being 
(as  the  wise  man  tells  us)  a  way  that  may  seem  right  in  a 
man's  own  eyes,  when,  nevertheless,  the  end  of  that  way  is  death. 

Now  as  amongst  these  principles  or  rules  of  action,  the 
pretenses  of  the  Spirit,  and  of  tenderness  of  conscience,  and 
the  like,  have  been  the  late  grand  artifices,  by  which  crafty 
and  designing  hypocrites  have  so  much  abused  the  world  ;  so 
I  shall  now  instance  in  another  of  no  less  note,  by  which  the 
generality  of  men  are  as  apt  to  abuse  themselves ;  and  that  is 
a  certain  rule  or  sentence  got  almost  into  every  man's  mouth, 
that  God  accepts  the  will  for  the  deed.  A  principle  (as  usu 
ally  applied)  of  less  malice,  I  confess ;  but,  considering  the 
easiness,  and  withal  the  fatality  of  the  delusion,  of  more  mis 
chief  than  the  other. 

And  this  I  shall  endeavor  to  search  into,  and  lay  open,  in 
the  following  discourse. 


2  COR.  viii.  12.]    Good  Inclinations  no  Excuse  for  bad  Actions.     189 

The  words  hold  forth  a  general  rule  or  proposition  delivered 
upon  a  particular  occasion  :  which  was  the  apostle's  exhorting 
the  Corinthians  to  a  holy  and  generous  emulation  of  the 
charity  of  the  Macedonians,  in  contributing  freely  to  the 
relief  of  the  poor  saints  at  Jerusalem :  upon  this  great  en 
couragement,  that  in  all  such  works  of  charity,  it  is  the  will 
that  gives  worth  to  the  oblation,  and,  as  to  God's  acceptance, 
sets  the  poorest  giver  upon  the  same  level  with  the  richest. 
Nor  is  this  all ;  but  so  perfectly  does  the  value  of  all  chari 
table  acts  take  its  measure  and  proportion  from  the  will,  and 
from  the  fullness  of  the  heart,  rather  than  that  of  the  hand, 
that  a  lesser  supply  may  be  oftentimes  a  greater  charity,  and 
the  widow's  mite,  in  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary,  outweigh 
the  shekels,  and  perhaps  the  talents  of  the  most  opulent  and 
wealthy:  the  all  and  utmost  of  the  one  being  certainly  a 
nobler  alms  than  the  superfluities  of  the  other :  and  all  this 
upon  the  account  of  the  great  rule  here  set  down  in  the  text : 
That,  in  all  transactions  between  God  and  man,  wheresoever 
there  is  a  full  resolution,  drift,  and  purpose  of  will  to  please 
God,  there,  what  a  man  can  do,  shall,  by  virtue  thereof,  be 
accepted,  and  what  he  can  not  do,  shall  not  be  required. 
From  whence  these  two  propositions,  in  sense  and  design 
much  the  same,  do  naturally  result. 

I.  The  first  of  them  expressed  in  the  words ;  to  wit,  that 
God  accepts  the  will,  where  there  is  no  power  to  perform. 

II.  The  other  of  them  implied ;  namely,  that  where  there 
is  a  power  to  perform,  God  does  not  accept  the  will. 

Of  all  the  spiritual  tricks  and  legerdemain  by  which  men 
are  apt  to  shift  off  their  duty,  and  to  impose  upon  their  own 
souls,  there  is  none  so  common,  and  of  so  fatal  an  import,  as 
these  two ;  the  plea  of  a  good  intention,  and  the  plea  of  a 
good  will. 

One  or  both  of  them  being  used  by  men,  almost  at  every 
turn,  to  elude  the  precept,  to  put  God  off  with  something 
instead  of  obedience,  and  so,  in  effect,  to  outwit  him  whom 
they  are  called  to  obey.  They  are  certainly  two  of  the  most 
effectual  instruments  and  engines  in  the  devil's  hands  to  wind 
and  turn  the  souls  of  men  by,  to  whatsoever  he  pleases.  For, 

1.  The  plea  of  a  good  intention  will  serve  to  sanctify  and 
authorize  the  very  worst  of  actions.  The  proof  of  which  is 


190  Good  Inclinations  [SERM.  x. 

but  too  full  and  manifest,  from  that  lewd  and  scandalous  doc 
trine  of  the  Jesuits  concerning  the  direction  of  the  intention, 
and  likewise  from  the  whole  manage  of  the  late  accursed  re- 
hellion.  In  which,  it  was  this  insolent  and  impudent  pre 
tense,  that  emboldened  the  worst  of  men  to  wade  through 
the  blood  of  the  best  of  kings,  and  the  loyalest  of  subjects ; 
namely,  that  in  all  that  risk  of  villainy,  their  hearts,  forsooth, 
were  right  towards  God  ;  and  that  all  their  plunder  and  rapine 
was  for  nothing  else,  but  to  place  Christ  on  his  throne,  and 
to  establish  amongst  us  the  power  of  godliness,  and  the 
purity  of  the  gospel ;  by  a  further  reformation  (as  the  cant 
goes)  of  a  church  which  had  but  too  much  felt  the  meaning 
of  that  word  before. 

But  such  persons  consider  not,  that  though  an  ill  intention 
is  certainly  sufficient  to  spoil  and  corrupt  an  act  in  itself  ma 
terially  good,  yet  no  good  intention  whatsoever  can  rectify 
or  infuse  a  moral  goodness  into  an  act  otherwise  evil.  To 
come  to  church,  is  no  doubt  an  act  in  itself  materially  good  ; 
yet  he  who  does  it  with  an  ill  intention,  comes  to  God's  house 
upon  the  devil's  errand ;  and  the  whole  act  is  thereby  ren 
dered  absolutely  evil  and  detestable -before  God.  But  on  the 
other  side ;  if  it  were  possible  for  a  man  to  intend  well,  while 
he  does  ill ;  yet  no  such  intention,  though  never  so  good,  can 
make  that  man  steal,  lie,  or  murder  with  a  good  conscience  ; 
or  convert  a  wicked  action  into  a  good. 

For  these  things  are  against  the  nature  of  morality ;  in 
which  nothing  is  or  can  be  really  good,  without  an  universal 
concurrence  of  all  the  principles  and  ingredients  requisite  to 
a  moral  action ;  though  the  failure  of  any  one  of  them  will 
imprint  a  malignity  upon  that  act,  which,  in  spite  of  all  the 
other  requisite  ingredients,  shall  stamp  it  absolutely  evil,  and 
corrupt  it  past  the  cure  of  a  good  intention. 

And  thus,  as  I  have  shown,  that  the  plea  of  a  good  inten 
tion  is  used  by  men  to  warrant  and  patronize  the  most  villain 
ous  and  wicked  actions,  so,  in  the  next  place,  the  plea  of  a 
good  will  will  be  found  equally  efficacious  to  supersede  and 
take  off  the  necessity  of  all  holy  and  good  actions.  For  still 
(as  I  have  observed)  the  great  art  of  the  devil,  and  the  princi 
pal  deceit  of  the  heart,  is  to  put  a  trick  upon  the  command, 
and  to  keep  fair  with  God  himself,  while  men  fall  foul  upon 


2  COR.  viii.  12.]  no  Excuse  for  bad  Actions.  191 

his  laws.  For  both  law  and  gospel  call  aloud  for  active  obe 
dience,  and  such  a  piety  as  takes  not  up  either  with  faint 
notions,  or  idle,  insignificant  inclinations,  but  such  an  one  as 
shows  itself  in  the  solid  instances  of  practice  and  performance. 
For,  Do  this  and  live,  saith  the  law,  Luke  x.  28  5  and,  If  ye 
know  these  things,  happy  are  ye  if  ye  do  them,  says  the  gospel, 
John  xiii.  17 ;  and,  Not  every  one  that  saith,  Lord,  Lord,  shall 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of 
my  Father  which  is  in  heaven,  Matt.  vii.  21 ;  and,  Let  no  man 
deceive  you  ;  he  that  doth  righteousness  is  righteous,  1  John  iii. 
7 ;  with  innumerable  more  such  places.  All  of  them  terrible 
and  severe  injunctions  of  practice,  and  equally  severe  obliga 
tions  to  it. 

But  then  in  comes  the  benign  latitude  of  the  doctrine  of 
good  will,  and  cuts  asunder  all  these  hard,  pinching  cords ; 
and  tells  you,  that  if  this  be  but  piously  and  well  inclined,  if 
the  bent  of  the  spirit  (as  some  call  it)  be  towards  God  and 
goodness,  God  accepts  of  this  above,  nay,  instead  of  all  exter 
nal  works ;  those  being  but  the  shell,  or  husk,  this  the  kernel, 
the  quintessence,  and  the  very  soul  of  duty.  But  for  all  this, 
these  bents  and  propensities  and  inclinations  will  not  do  the 
business  :  the  bare  bending  of  the  bow  will  not  hit  the  mark 
without  shooting  the  arrow ;  and  men  are  not  called  to  will, 
but  to  work  out  their  salvation. 

But  what  then  ?  Is  it  not  as  certain  from  the  text,  that 
God  sometimes  accepts  the  will,  as  it  is  from  those  foremen- 
tioned  scriptures  that  God  commands  the  deed  ?  Yes,  no 
doubt :  since  it  is  impossible  for  the  Holy  Ghost  to  contradict 
that  in  one  place  of  scripture  which  he  had  affirmed  in  an 
other.  In  all  the  foregoing  places,  doing  is  expressly  com 
manded,  and  no  happiness  allowed  to  any  thing  short  of  it ; 
and  yet  here  God  is  said  to  accept  of  the  will ;  and  can  both 
these  stand  together  without  manifest  contradiction  ?  That 
which  enjoins  the  deed  is  certainly  God's  law ;  and  it  is  also 
as  certain  that  the  scripture  that  allows  of  the  will  is  neither 
the  abrogation,  nor  derogation,  nor  dispensation,  nor  relaxa 
tion  of  that  law. 

In  order  to  the  clearing  of  which,  I  shall  lay  down  these 
two  assertions : 

(1.)  That  every  law  of  God  commands  the  obedience  of  the 
whole  man. 


192  Good  Inclinations  [SERM.  x. 

(2.)  That  the  will  is  never  accepted  by  God,  but  as  it  is  the 
obedience  of  the  whole  man. 

So  that  the  allowance  or  acceptance  of  the  will,  mentioned 
in  the  text,  takes  off  nothing  from  the  obligation  of  those 
laws,  in  which  the  deed  is  so  plainly  and  positively  enjoined, 
but  is  only  an  interpretation  or  declaration  of  the  true 
sense  of  those  laws,  showing  the  equity  of  them :  which  is  as 
really  essential  to  every  law,  and  gives  it  its  obliging  force  as 
much  as  the  justice  of  it;  and  indeed,  is  not  another,  or  a 
distinct  thing  from  the  justice  of  it,  any  more  than  a  particu 
lar  case  is  from  an  universal  rule. 

But  you  will  say,  how  can  the  obedience  of  the  will  ever  be 
proved  to  be  the  obedience  of  the  whole  man  ? 

For  answer  to  which,  we  are  first  to  consider  every  man  as 
a  moral,  and  consequently  as  a  rational  agent ;  and  then  to 
consider  what  is  the  office  and  influence  of  the  will  in  every 
moral  action.  Now  the  morality  of  an  action  is  founded  in 
the  freedom  of  that  principle  by  virtue  of  which  it  is  in  the 
agent's  power,  having  all  things  ready  and  requisite  to  the 
performance  of  an  action,  either  to  perform  or  not  to  perform 
it.  And  as  the  will  is  endued  with  this  freedom,  so  is  it  also 
endued  with  a  power  to  command  all  the  other  faculties,  both 
of  soul  and  body,  to  execute  what  it  has  so  willed  or  decreed,  and 
that  without  resistance ;  so  that  upon  the  last  dictate  of  the 
will  for  the  doing  of  such  or  such  a  thing,  all  the  other  fac 
ulties  proceed  immediately  to  act  according  to  their  respective 
offices.  By  which  it  is  manifest,  that  in  point  of  action,  the 
will  is  virtually  the  whole  man ;  as  containing  in  it  all  that 
which  by  virtue  of  his  other  faculties  he  is  able  to  do :  just  as 
the  spring  of  a  watch  is  virtually  the  whole  motion  of  the 
watch;  forasmuch  as  it  imparts  a  motion  to  all  the  wheels 
of  it. 

Thus  as  to  the  soul.  If  the  will  bids  the  understanding 
think,  study,  and  consider,  it  will  accordingly  apply  itself  to 
thought,  study,  and  consideration.  If  it  bids  the  affections 
love,  rejoice,  or  be  angry,  an  act  of  love,  joy,  or  anger  will 
follow.  And  then  for  the  body  ;  if  the  will  bids  the  leg  go, 
it  goes ;  if  it  bids  the  hand  to  do  this,  it  does  it.  So  that  a 
man  is  a  moral  agent  only  as  he  is  endued  with,  and  acts  by, 
a  free  and  commanding  principle  of  will.  * 


2  COR.  viii.  12.]  no  Excuse  for  bad  Actions.  193 

Aud  therefore,  when  God  says,  My  son,  give  me  thy  heart, 
(which  there  signifies  the  will,)  it  is  as  much  as  if  he  had 
commanded  the  service  of  the  whole  man ;  for  whatsoever 
the  will  commands,  the  whole  man  must  do :  the  empire  or 
dominion  of  the  will  over  all  the  faculties  of  soul  and  body  (as 
to  most  of  the  operations  of  each  of  them)  being  absolutely 
overruling  and  despotical.  From  whence  it  follows,  that 
when  the  will  has  exerted  an  act  of  command  upon  any  fac 
ulty  of  the  soul,  or  member  of  the  body,  it  has,  by  so  doing, 
done  all  that  the  whole  man,  as  a  moral  agent,  can  do,  for 
the  actual  exercise  or  employment  of  such  a  faculty  or  mem 
ber.  And  if  so,  then  what  is  not  done  in  such  a  case,  is  cer 
tainly  not  in  a  man's  power  to  do;  and  consequently  is  no 
part  of  the  obedience  required  of  him :  no  man  being  com 
manded  or  obliged  to  obey  beyond  his  power.  And  therefore 
the  obedience  of  the  will  to  God's  commands,  is  the  obedi 
ence  of  the  whole  man,  (forasmuch  as  it  includes  and  infers 
it,)  which  was  the  assertion  that  we  undertook  to  prove. 

But  you  will  say,  if  the  prerogative  of  the  will  be  such,  that 
where  it  commands  the  hand  to  give  an  alms,  the  leg  to 
kneel,  or  to  go  to  church,  or  the  tongue  to  utter  a  prayer,  all 
these  things  will  infallibly  be  done ;  suppose  we  now,  a  man 
be  bound  hand  and  foot  by  some  outward  violence,  or  be  laid 
up  with  the  gout,  or  disabled  for  any  of  these  functions  by  a 
palsy ;  can  the  will,  by  its  command,  make  a  man  in  such  a 
condition  utter  a  prayer,  or  kneel,  or  go  to  church  ?  No,  it 
is  manifest  it  can  not :  but  then  you  are  to  know  also,  that 
neither  is  vocal  prayer,  or  bodily  kneeling,  or  going  to 
church,  in  such  a  case,  any  part  of  the  obedience  required  of 
such  a  person :  but  that  act  of  his  will  hitherto  spoken  of, 
that  would  have  put  his  body  upon  all  these  actions,  had  there 
been  no  impediment,  is  that  man's  whole  obedience  ;  and  for 
that  very  cause  that  it  is  so,  and  for  no  other,  it  stands  here 
accepted  by  God. 

From  all  which  discourse,  this  must  naturally  and  directly 
be  inferred,  as  a  certain  truth,  and  the  chief  foundation  of 
all  that  can  be  said  upon  this  subject :  namely,  that  whoso 
ever  wills  the  doing  of  a  thing,  if  the  doing  of  it  be  in  his 
power,  he  will  certainly  do  it ;  and  whosoever  does  not  do 
that  thing  which  he  has  in  his  power  to  do,  does  not  really 

VOL.  I.  13 


194  Good  Inclinations  [SERM.  x. 

and  properly  will  it.  For  though  the  act  of  the  will  com 
manding,  and  the  act  of  any  other  faculty  of  the  soul  or  body 
executing  that  which  is  so  commanded,  be  physically,  and  in 
the  precise  nature  of  things,  distinct  and  several ;  yet  morally, 
as  they  proceed  in  subordination,  from  one  entire,  free,  moral 
agent,  both  in  divinity  and  morality  they  pass  but  for  one 
and  the  same  action. 

Now,  that  from  the  foregoing  particulars  we  may  come  to 
understand  how  far  this  rule  of  God's  accepting  the  will  for 
the  deed  holds  good  in  the  sense  of  the  apostle,  we  must  con 
sider  in  it  these  three  things  : 

1.  The  original  ground  and  reason  of  it. 

2.  The  just  measure  and  bounds  of  it :  and, 

3.  The  abuse  or  misapplication  of  it. 

And  first  for  the  original  ground  and  reason  of  this  rule ; 
it  is  founded  upon  that  great,  self-evident,  and  eternal  truth, 
that  the  just,  the  wise,  and  good  God  neither  does  nor  can 
require  of  man  any  thing  that  is  impossible,  or  naturally  be 
yond  his  power  to  do  :  and  therefore,  in  the  second  place,  the 
measure  of  this  rule,  by  which  the  just  extent  and  bounds  of 
it  are  to  be  determined,  must  be  that  power  or  ability  that 
man  naturally  has  to  do  or  perform  the  things  willed  by  him. 
So  that  wheresoever  such  a  power  is  found,  there  this  rule 
of  God's  accepting  the  will  has  no  place  ;  and  wheresoever 
such  a  power  is  not  found,  there  this  rule  presently  becomes 
in  force.  And  accordingly,  in  the  third  and  last  place,  the 
abuse  or  misapplication  of  this  rule  will  consist  in  these  two 
things^ 

1.  That  men  do  very  often  take  that  to  be  an  act  of  the 
will  that  really  and  truly  is  not  so. 

2.  That  they  reckon   many  things  impossible  that  indeed 
are  not  impossible. 

And  first,  to  begin  with  men's  mistakes  about  the  will,  and 
the  acts  of  it ;  I  shall  note  these  three,  by  which  men  are 
extremely  apt  to  impose  upon  themselves. 

(1.)  As  first,  the  bare  approbation  of  the  worth  and  good 
ness  of  a  thing  is  not  properly  the  willing  of  that  thing; 
and  yet  men  do  very  commonly  account  it  so.  But  this  is 
properly  an  act  of  the  understanding  or  judgment ;  a  faculty 
wholly  distinct  from  the  will;  and  which  makes  a  principal 


2  COR.  viii.  12.]  no  Excuse  for  bad  Actions.  195 

part  of  that  which  in  divinity  we  call  natural  conscience ; 
and  in  the  strength  of  which  a  man  may  approve  of  things 
good  and  excellent,  without  ever  willing  or  intending  the 
practice  of  them.  And  accordingly  the  apostle,  Rom.  ii.  18, 
gives  us  an  account  of  some  who  approved  of  things  excel 
lent,  and  yet  practiced,  and  consequently  willed,  things  clean 
contrary ;  since  no  man  can  commit  a  sin,  but  he  must  will 
it  first.  Whosoever  observes  and  looks  into  the  workings  of 
his  own  heart,  will  find  that  noted  sentence,  Video  meliora 
proboque,  deteriora  sequor,  too  frequently  and  fatally  verified 
upon  himself.  The  seventh  of  the  Romans  (which  has  been 
made  the  unhappy  scene  of  so  much  controversy  about  these 
matters)  has  several  passages  to  this  purpose.  In  a  word,  t6 
judge  what  ought  to  be  done  is  one  thing,  and  to  will  the 
doing  of  it  is  quite  another. 

No  doubt  virtue  is  a  beautiful  and  a  glorious  thing  in  the 
eyes  of  the  most  vicious  person  breathing ;  and  all  that  he 
does  or  can  hate  in  it,  is  the  difficulty  of  its  practice ;  for  it 
is  practice  alone  that  divides  the  world  into  virtuous  and 
vicious ;  but  otherwise,  as  to  the  theory  and  speculation  of 
virtue  and  vice,  honest  and  dishonest,  the  generality  of  man 
kind  are  much  the  same ;  for  men  do  not  approve  of  virtue 
by  choice  and  free  election ;  but  it  is  an  homage  which 
nature  commands  all  understandings  to  pay  to  it,  by  neces 
sary  determination  ;  and  yet,  after  all,  it  is  but  a  faint,  unac- 
tive  thing  ;  for  in  defiance  of  the  judgment,  the  will  may  still 
remain  as  perverse,  and  as  much  a  stranger  to  virtue,  as  it 
was  before.  In  fine,  there  is  as  much  difference  between  the 
approbation  of  the  judgment,  and  the  actual  volitions  of  the 
will,  with  relation  to  the  same  object,  as  there  is  between  a 
man's  viewing  a  desirable  thing  with  his  eye,  and  his  reaching 
after  it  with  his  hand. 

(2.)  The  wishing  of  a  thing  is  not  properly  the  willing 
of  it ;  though  too  often  mistaken  by  men  for  such :  but  it 
is  that  which  is  called  by  the  schools  an  imperfect  velleity, 
and  imports  no  more  than  an  idle  unoperative  complacency 
in,  and  desire  of  the  end,  without  any  consideration  of,  nay, 
for  the  most  part,  with  a  direct  abhorrence  of  the  means ;  of 
which  nature  I  account  that  wish  of  Balaam,  in  Numbers 
xxiii.  10,  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last 
end  be  like  his. 


196  Good  Inclinations  [SERM.  x. 

The  thing  itself  appeared  desirable  to  him,  and  accordingly 
he  could  not  but  like  and  desire  it ;  but  then  it  was  after  a 
very  irrational,  absurd  way,  and  contrary  to  all  the  methods 
and  principles  of  a  rational  agent ;  which  never  wills  a  thing 
really  and  properly,  but  it  applies  to  the  means  by  which  it 
is  to  be  acquired.  But  at  that  very  time  that  Balaam  desired 
to  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  he  was  actually  following  the 
wages  of  unrighteousness,  and  so  thereby  engaged  in  a  course 
quite  contrary  to  what  he  desired ;  and  consequently  such  as 
could  not  possibly  bring  him  to  such  an  end.  Much  like  the 
sot  that  cried,  Utinam  hoc  esset  laborare,  while  he  lay  lazing 
and  lolling  upon  his  couch. 

*  But  every  true  act  of  volition  imports  a  respect  to  the  end, 
by  and  through  the  means ;  and  wills  a  thing  only  in  that 
way  in  which  it  is  to  be  compassed  or  effected ;  which  is  the 
foundation  of  that  most  true  aphorism,  That  he  who  wills 
the  end,  wills  also  the  means.  The  truth  of  which  is  founded 
in  such  a  necessary  connection  of  the  terms,  that  I  look 
upon  the  proposition,  not  only  as  true,  but  as  convertible ; 
and  that,  as  a  man  can  not  truly  and  properly  will  the  end, 
but  he  must  also  will  the  means ;  so  neither  can  he  will  the 
means,  but  he  must  virtually,  and  by  interpretation  at  least, 
will  the  end.  Which  is  so  true,  that,  in  the  account  of  the 
divine  law,  a  man  is  reckoned  to  will  even  those  things  that 
naturally  are  not  the  object  of  desire ;  such  as  death  itself, 
Ezek.  xviii.  31,  only  because  he  wills  those  ways  and  courses 
that  naturally  tend  to  and  end  in  it.  And  even  our  own 
common  law  looks  upon  a  man's  raising  arms  against,  or  im 
prisoning  his  prince,  as  an  imagining  or  compassing  of  his 
death  :  forasmuch  as  these  actions  are  the  means  directly 
leading  to  it,  and,  for  the  most  part,  actually  concluding  in 
it :  and  consequently,  that  the  willing  of  the  one  is  the  will 
ing  of  the  other  also. 

To  will  a  thing  therefore  is  certainly  much  another  thing 
from  what  the  generality  of  men,  especially  in  their  spiritual 
concerns,  take  it  to  be.  I  say,  in  their  spiritual  concerns ; 
for  in  their  temporal,  it  is  manifest  that  they  think  and  judge 
much  otherwise ;  and  in  the  things  of  this  world  no  man  is 
allowed  or  believed  to  will  any  thing  heartily  which  he  does 
not  endeavor  after  proportionably.  A  wish  is  properly  a  man 


2  COR.  viii.  12.]  no  Excuse  for  bad  Actions.  197 

of  desire,  sitting  or  lying  still ;  but  an  act  of  the  will  is  a 
man  of  business  vigorously  going  about  his  work :  and  cer 
tainly  there  is  a  great  deal  of  difference  between  a  man's 
stretching  out  his  arms  to  work,  and  his  stretching  them  out 
only  to  yawn. 

(3.)  And  lastly,  a  mere  inclination  to  a  thing  is  not  prop 
erly  a  willing  of  that  thing ;  and  yet  in  matters  of  duty,  no 
doubt,  men  frequently  reckon  it  for  such.  For  otherwise 
why  should  they  so  often  plead  and  rest  in  the  goodness  of 
their  hearts,  and  the  honest  and  well-inclined  disposition  of 
their  minds,  when  they  are  justly  charged  with  an  actual  non- 
performance  of  what  the  law  requires  of  them  ? 

But  that  an  inclination  to  a  thing  is  not  a  willing  of  that 
thing,  is  irrefragably  proved  by  this  one  argument,  that  a 
man  may  act  virtuously  against  his  inclination,  but  not  against 
his  will.  He  may  be  inclined  to  one  thing,  and  yet  will  an 
other  ;  and  therefore  inclination  and  will  are  not  the  same. 

For  a  man  may  be  naturally  inclined  to  pride,  lust,  anger, 
and  strongly  inclined  so  too,  (forasmuch  as  these  inclinations 
are  founded  in  a  peculiar  crasis  and  constitution  of  the  blood 
and  spirits,)  and  yet  by  a  steady,  frequent  repetition  of  the 
contrary  acts  of  humility,  chastity,  and  meekness,  carried 
thereto  by  his  will,  (a  principle  not  to  be  controlled  by  the 
blood  or  spirits,)  he  may  at  length  plant  in  his  soul  all  those 
contrary  habits  of  virtue :  and  therefore  it  is  certain  that 
while  inclination  bends  the  soul  one  way,  a  well-disposed  and 
resolved  will  may  effectually  draw  it  another.  A  sufficient 
demonstration,  doubtless,  that  they  are  two  very  different 
things ;  for  where  there  may  be  a  contrariety,  there  is  cer 
tainly  a  diversity.  A  good  inclination  is  but  the  first  rude 
draught  of  virtue ;  but  the  finishing  strokes  are  from  the 
will ;  which,  if  well-disposed,  will  by  degrees  perfect ;  if 
ill-disposed,  will,  by  the  superinduction  of  ill  habits,  quickly 
deface  it. 

God  never  accepts  a  good  inclination  instead  of  a  good 
action,  where  that  action  may  be  done;  nay,  so  much  the 
contrary,  that  if  a  good  inclination  be  not  seconded  by  a  good 
action,  the  want  of  that  action  is  thereby  made  so  much  the 
more  criminal  and  inexcusable. 

A  man  may  be  naturally  well  and  virtuously  inclined,  and 


198  Good  Inclinations  [SERM.  x. 

yet  never  do  one  good  or  virtuous  action  all  his  life.  A  bowl 
may  lie  still  for  all  its  bias  ;  but  it  is  impossible  for  a  man  to 
will  virtue  vand  virtuous  actions  heartily,  but  he  must  in  the 
same  degree  offer  at  the  practice  of  them  :  forasmuch  as  the 
dictates  of  the  will  are  (as  we  have  shown)  despotical,  and 
command  the  whole  man.  It  being  a  contradiction  in  mor 
ality  for  the  will  to  go  one  way,  and  the  man  another. 

And  thus  as  to  the  first  abuse  or  misapplication  of  the  great 
rule  mentioned  in  the  text,  about  God's  accepting  the  will,  I 
have  shown  three  notable  mistakes  which  men  are  apt  to 
entertain  concerning  the  will ;  and  proved  that  neither  a  bare 
approbation  of,  nor  a  mere  wishing,  or  unactive  complacency 
in,  nor,  lastly,  a  natural  inclination  to,  things  virtuous  and 
good,  can  pass  before  God  for  a  man's  willing  of  such  things ; 
and  consequently,  if  men  upon  this  account  will  needs  take 
up  and  acquiesce  in  an  airy,  ungrounded  persuasion,  that 
they  will  those  things  which  really  they  do  not  will,  they  fall 
thereby  into  a  gross  and  fatal  delusion  :  a  delusion  that  must 
and  will  shut  the  door  of  salvation  against  them.  They  catch 
at  heaven,  but  embrace  a  cloud ;  they  mock  God,  who  will 
not  be  mocked ;  and  deceive  their  own  souls,  which,  God 
knows,  may  too  easily  be  both  deceived  and  destroyed  too. 

2.  Come  we  now  in  the  next  place  to  consider  the  other 
way  by  which  men  are  prone  to  abuse  and  pervert  this  im 
portant  rule  of  God's  accounting  the  will  for  the  deed ;  and 
that  is,  by  reckoning  many  things  impossible  which  in  truth 
are  not  impossible. 

And  this  I  shall  make  appear  by  showing  some  of  the 
principal  instances  of  duty,  for  the  performance  of  which  men 
commonly  plead  want  of  power;  and  thereupon  persuade 
themselves  that  God  and  the  law  rest  satisfied  with  their  will. 

Now  these  instances  are  four. 

(1.)  In  duties  of  very  great  and  hard  labor.  Labor  is  con 
fessedly  a  great  part  of  the  curse ;  and  therefore  no  wonder 
if  men  fly  from  it :  which  they  do  with  so  great  an  aversion, 
that  few  men  know  their  own  strength  for  want  of  trying  it ; 
and  upon  that  account  think  themselves  really  unable  to  do 
many  things  which  experience  would  convince  them  they  have 
more  ability  to  effect  than  they  have  will  to  attempt. 

It  is  idleness  that  creates  impossibilities  ;  and,  where  men 


2  COR.  viii.  12.]  no  Excuse  for  bad  Actions.  199 

care  not  to  do  a  thing,  they  shelter  themselves  under  a  per 
suasion  that  it  can  not  be  done.  The  shortest  and  the  surest 
way  to  prove  a  work  possible,  is  strenuously  to  set  about  it ; 
and  no  wonder  if  that  proves  it  possible,  that,  for  the  most 
part,  makes  it  so. 

Dig,  says  the  unjust  steward,  I  can  not.  But  why  ?  Did 
either  his  legs  or  his  arms  fail  him  ?  No  ;  but  day-labor  was 
but  a  hard  and  a  dry  kind  of  livelihood  to  a  man  that  could 
get  an  estate  with  two  or  three  strokes  of  his  pen  ;  and  find 
so  great  a  treasure  as  he  did,  without  digging  for  it. 

But  such  excuses  will  not  pass  muster  with  God,  who  will 
allow  no  man's  humor  or  idleness  to  be  the  measure  of  pos 
sible  or  impossible.  And  to  manifest  the  wretched  hypocrisy 
of  such  pretenses,  those  very  things,  which  upon  the  bare 
obligation  of  duty  are  declined  by  men  as  impossible,  pres 
ently  become  not  only  possible,  but  readily  practicable  too,  in 
a  case  of  extreme  necessity.  As  no  doubt  that  forementioned 
instance  of  fraud  and  laziness,  the  unjust  steward,  who  pleaded 
that  he  could  neither  dig  nor  beg,  would  quickly  have  been 
brought  both  to  dig  and  to  beg  too,  rather  than  starve.  And 
if  so,  what  reason  could  such  an  one  produce  before  God, 
why  he  could  not  submit  to  the  same  hardships,  rather  than 
cheat  and  lie  ?  The  former  being  but  destructive  of  the  body, 
this  latter  of  the  soul :  and  certainly  the  highest  and  dearest 
concerns  of  a  temporal  life  are  infinitely  less  valuable  than 
those  of  an  eternal;  and  consequently  ought,  without  any 
demur  at  all,  to  be  sacrificed  to  them,  whensoever  they  come 
in  competition  with  them.  He  who  can  digest  any  labor 
rather  than  die,  must  refuse  no  labor  rather  than  sin. 

(2.)  The  second  instance  shall  be  in  duties  of  great  and 
apparent  danger.  Danger  (as  the  world  goes)  generally 
absolves  from  duty :  this  being  a  case  in  which  most  men, 
according  to  a  very  ill  sense,  will  needs  be  a  law  to  them 
selves.  And  where  it  is  not  safe  for  them  to  be  religious, 
their  religion  shall  be  to  be  safe.  But  Christianity  teaches  us 
a  very  different  lesson  :  for  if  fear  of  suffering  could  take  off 
the  necessity  of  obeying,  the  doctrine  of  the  cross  would  cer 
tainly  be  a  very  idle  and  a  senseless  thing ;  and  Christ  would 
never  have  prayed,  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass 
from  me,  had  the  bitterness  of  the  draught  made  it  impossible 


200  Good  Inclinations  [SERM.  x. 

to  be  drunk  of.  If  death  and  danger  are  things  that  really 
can  not  be  endured,  no  man  could  ever  be  obliged  to  suffer 
for  his  conscience,  or  to  die  for  his  religion ;  it  being  alto 
gether  as  absurd  to  imagine  a  man  obliged  to  suffer,  as  to  do 
impossibilities. 

But  those  primitive  heroes  of  the  Christian  church  could 
not  so  easily  blow  off  the  doctrine  of  passive  obedience,  as  to 
make  the  fear  of  being  passive  a  discharge  from  being  obe 
dient.  No,  they  found  martyrdom  not  only  possible,  but  in 
many  cases  a  duty  also ;  a  duty  dressed  up  indeed  with  all 
that  was  terrible  and  afflictive  to  human  nature,  yet  not  at  all 
the  less  a  duty  for  being  so.  And  such  an  height  of  Chris 
tianity  possessed  those  noble  souls,  that  every  martyr  could 
keep  one  eye  steadily  fixed  upon  his  duty,  and  look  death  and 
danger  out  of  countenance  with  the  other :  nor  did  they  flinch 
from  duty  for  fear  of  martyrdom,  when  one  of  the  most  quick 
ening  motives  to  duty  was  their  desire  of  it. 

But  to  prove  the  possibility  of  a  thing,  there  is  no  argu 
ment  like  to  that  which  looks  backwards ;  for  what  has  been 
done  or  suffered  may  certainly  be  done  or  suffered  again. 
And  to  prove  that  men  may  be  martyrs,  there  needs  no  other 
demonstration,  than  to  show  that  many  have  been  so.  Be 
sides  that  the  grace  of  God  has  not  so  far  abandoned  the 
Christian  world,  but  that  those  high  primitive  instances  of 
passive  fortitude  in  the  case  of  duty  and  danger  rivaling  one 
another  have  been  exemplified,  and  (as  it  were)  revived,  by 
several  glorious  copies  of  them  in  the  succeeding  ages  of  the 
church. 

And  (thanks  be  to  God)  we  need  not  look  very  far  back 
ward  for  some  of  them,  even  amongst  ourselves.  For  when 
a  violent,  victorious  faction  and  rebellion  had  overrun  all, 
and  made  loyalty  to  the  king  and  conformity  to  the  church 
crimes  unpardonable,  and  of  a  guilt  not  to  be  expiated,  but 
at  the  price  of  life  or  estate ;  when  men  were  put  to  swear 
away  all  interest  in  the  next  world,  to  secure  a  very  poor  one 
in  this  ;  (for  they  had  then  oaths  to  murder  souls,  as  well  as 
sword  and  pistol  for  the  body;  nay,)  when  the  persecution 
ran  so  high,  that  that  execrable  monster  Cromwell  made  and 
published  that  barbarous,  heathenish,  or  rather  inhuman 
edict  against  the  poor  suffering  episcopal  clergy,  That  they 


2  COR.  viii.  12.]  no  Excuse  for  bad  Actions.  201 

should  neither  preach  nor  pray  in  public,  nor  baptize,  nor 
marry,  nor  bury,  nor  teach  school,  no,  nor  so  much  as  live 
in  any  gentleman's  house,  who  in  mere  charity  and  compas 
sion  might  be  inclined  to  take  them  in  from  perishing  in 
the  streets ;  that  is,  in  other  words,  that  they  must  starve 
and  die  ex  officio,  and  being  turned  out  of  their  churches, 
take  possession  only  of  the  church -yard,  as  so  many  victims 
to  the  remorseless  rage  of  a  foul,  ill-bred  tyrant,  professing 
piety  without  so  much  as  common  humanity:  I  say,  when 
rage  and  persecution,  cruelty  and  Cromwellism  were  at  that 
diabolical  pitch,  tyrannizing  over  every  thing  that  looked  like 
loyalty,  conscience,  and  conformity ;  so  that  he,  who  took 
not  their  engagement,  could  not  take  any  thing  else,  though 
it  were  given  him;  being  thereby  debarred  from  the  very 
common  benefit  of  the  law,  in  suing  for  or  recovering  of 
his  right  in  any  of  their  courts  of  justice ;  (all  of  them  still 
following  the  motion  of  the  high  one ;)  yet  even  then,  and 
under  that  black  and  dismal  state  of  things,  there  were  many 
thousands  who  never  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal-Cromwell,  Baal- 
covenant,  or  Baal-engagement ;  but  with  a  steady,  fixed,  un 
shaken  resolution,  and  in  a  glorious  imitation  of  those  heroic 
Christians  in  the  tenth  and  eleventh  chapters  of  the  epistle 
to  the  Hebrews,  endured  a  great  fight  of  afflictions,  were  made 
a  gazing-stock  by  reproaches.,  took  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their 
goods,  had  trial  of  cruel  mockings  ;  moreover  of  bonds  and  im 
prisonments  ;  sometimes  were  tempted,  sometimes  were  slain  ivith 
the  sword,  wandered  about  in  hunger  and  nakedness,  being  desti 
tute,  afflicted,  tormented.  All  which  sufferings  surely  ought  to 
entitle  them  to  that  concluding  character  in  the  next  words, 
of  whom  tlw  world  was  not  worthy.  And  I  wish  I  could  say  of 
England,  that  it  were  worthy  of  those  men  now.  For  I  look 
upon  the  old  church  of  England  royalists  (which  I  take  to  be 
only  another  name  for  a  man  who  prefers  his  conscience  be 
fore  his  interest)  to  be  the  best  Christians  and  the  most 
meritorious  subjects  in  the  world ;  as  having  passed  all  those 
terrible  tests  and  trials,  which  conquering,  domineering 
malice  could  put  them  to,  and  carried  their  credit  and  their 
conscience  clear  and  triumphant  through,  and  above  them 
all,  constantly  firm  and  immovable,  by  all  that  they  felt  either 
from  their  professed  enemies  or  their  false  friends.  And  what 


202  Good  Inclinations  [SERM.  x. 

these  men  did  and  suffered  others  might  have  done  and  suf 
fered  too. 

But  they,  good  men,  had  another  and  more  artificial  sort 
of  conscience,  and  a  way  to  interpret  off  a  command,  where 
they  found  it  dangerous  or  unprofitable  to  do  it. 

"  God  knows  my  heart,  (says  one,)  I  love  the  king  cor 
dially  :  and  I  wish  well  to  the  church,  (says  another,)  hut  you 
see  the  state  of  things  is  altered ;  and  we  can  not  do  what 
we  would  do.  Our  will  is  good,  and  the  king  gracious,  and 
we  hope  he  will  accept  of  this,  and  dispense  with  the  rest." 
A  goodly  present,  doubtless,  as  they  meant  it ;  and  such  as 
they  might  freely  give,  and  yet  part  with  nothing ;  and  the 
king,  on  the  other  handj  receive  and  gain  just  as  much. 

But  now,  had  the  whole  nation  mocked  God  and  their  king 
at  this  shuffling,  hypocritical  rate,  what  an  odious,  infamous 
people  must  that  rebellion  have  represented  the  English  to 
all  posterity  ?  Where  had  been  the  honor  of  the  reformed 
religion,  that  could  not  afford  a  man  Christian  enough  to  suf 
fer  for  his  God  and  his  prince?  But  the  old  royalists  did 
both,  and  thereby  demonstrated  to  the  world  that  no  danger 
could  make  duty  impossible. 

And,  upon  my  conscience,  if  we  may  assign  any  other  rea 
son  or  motive  of  the  late  mercies  of  God  to  these  poor  king 
doms,  besides  his  own  proneness  to  show  mercy,  it  was  for  the 
sake  of  the  old,  suffering  cavaliers,  and  for  the  sake  of  none 
else  whatsoever,  that  God  delivered  us  from  the  two  late  ac 
cursed  conspiracies.  For  they  were  the  brats  and  offspring 
of  two  contrary  factions,  both  of  them  equally  mortal  and  in 
veterate  enemies  of  our  church ;  which  they  have  been,  and 
still  are,  perpetually  pecking  and  striking  at,  with  the  same 
malice,  though  with  different  methods. 

In  a  word :  the  old,  tried  church  of  England  royalists  were 
the  men,  who,  in  the  darkest  and  foulest  day  of  persecution 
that  ever  befell  England,  never  pleaded  the  will  in  excuse  of 
the  deed,  but  proved  the  integrity  and  loyalty  of  their  wills 
both  by  their  deeds  and  their  sufferings  too. 

But,  on  the  contrary,  when  duty  and  danger  stand  con 
fronting  one  another,  and  when  the  law  of  God  says,  Obey 
and  assist  your  king ;  and  the  faction  says,  Do  if  you  dare : 
for  men,  in  such  a  case,  to  think  to  divide  themselves,  and  to 


2  COR.  viii.  12.]  no  Excuse  for  bad  Actions.  203 

pretend  that  their  will  obeys  that  law,  while  all  besides  their 
will  obeys  and  serves  the  faction,  what  is  this  but  a  gross 
fulsome  juggling  with  their  duty,  and  a  kind  of  trimming  it 
between  God  and  the  devil  ? 

These  things  I  thought  fit  to  remark  to  you,  not  out  of  any 
intemperate  humor  of  reflecting  upon  the  late  times  of 
confusion,  (as  the  guilt  or  spite  of  some  may  suggest,)  but 
because  I  am  satisfied  in  my  heart  and  conscience,  that  it  is 
vastly  the  concern  of  his  majesty,  and  of  the  peace  of  his 
government,  both  in  church  and  state,  that  the  youth  of  the 
nation  (of  which  such  auditories  as  this  chiefly  consist)  should 
be  principled  and  possessed  with  a  full,  fixed,  and  thorough 
persuasion  of  the  justness  and  goodness  of  the  blessed  old 
king's  cause ;  and  of  the  excellent  piety  and  Christianity  of 
those  principles  upon  which  the  loyal  part  of  the  nation  ad 
hered  to  him,  and  that  against  the  most  horrid  and  inexcus 
able  rebellion  that  was  ever  set  on  foot  and  acted  upon  the 
stage  of  the  world :  of  all  which  whosoever  is  not  persuaded, 
is  a  rebel  in  his  heart,  and  deserves  not  the  protection  which 
he  enjoys. 

And  the  rather  do  I  think  such  remarks  as  these  necessary 
of  late  years,  because  of  the  vile  arts  and  restless  endeavors 
used  by  some  sly  and  venomous  factors  for  the  old  republican 
cause,  to  poison  and  debauch  men  from  their  allegiance ; 
sometimes  creeping  into  houses,  and  sometimes  creeping 
into  studies ;  but  in  both  equally  pimping  for  the  faction, 
and  stealing  away  as  many  hearts  from  the  son,  as  they  had 
formerly  employed  hands  against  the  father.  And  this  with 
such  success,  that  it  can  not  but  be  matter  of  very  sad  and 
melancholy  reflection  to  all  sober  and  loyal  minds,  to  con 
sider,  that  several  who  had  stood  it  out,  and  persevered  firm 
and  unalterable  royalists  in  the  late  storm,  have  since  (I 
know  not  by  what  unhappy  fate)  turned  trimmers  in  the 
calm. 

(3.)  The  third  instance,  in  which  men  use  to  plead  the  will 
instead  of  the  deed,  shall  be  in  duties  of  cost  and  expense. 

Let  a  business  of  expensive  charity  be  proposed  ;  and  then, 
as  I  showed  before,  that,  in  matters  of  labor,  the  lazy  person 
could  find  no  hands  wherewith  to  work,  so  neither  in  this 
case  can  the  religious  miser  find  any  hands  wherewith  to  give. 


204  Good  Inclinations  [SERM.  x. 

It  is  wonderful  to  consider  how  a  command  or  call  to  be 
liberal,  either  upon  a  civil  or  religious  account,  all  of  a  sudden 
impoverishes  the  rich,  breaks  the  merchant,  shuts  up  every 
private  man's  exchequer,  and  makes  those  men  in  a  minute 
have  nothing  at  all  to  give,  who,  at  the  very  same  instant, 
want  nothing  to  spend.  So  that  instead  of  relieving  the  poor, 
such  a  command  strangely  increases  their  number,  and  trans 
forms  rich  men  into  beggars  presently.  For,  let  the  danger 
of  their  prince  and  country  knock  at  their  purses,  and  call 
upon  them  to  contribute  against  a  public  enemy  or  calamity ; 
then  immediately  they  have  nothing,  and  their  riches  upon 
such  occasions  (as  Solomon  expresses  it)  never  fail  to  make 
themselves  wings,  and  to  fly  away. 

Thus,  at  the  siege  of  Constantinople,  then  the  wealthiest 
city  in  the  world,  the  citizens  had  nothing  to  give  their  em 
peror  for  the  defense  of  the  place,  though  he  begged  a  supply 
of  them  with  tears  ;  but,  when  by  that  means  the  Turks  took 
and  sacked  it,  then  those  who  before  had  nothing  to  give, 
had  more  than  enough  to  lose.  And  in  like  manner,  those 
who  would  not  support  the  necessities  of  the  old  blessed  king, 
against  his  villainous  enemies,  found  that  plunder  could  take 
where  disloyalty  would  not  give,  and  rapine  open  those  chests 
that  avarice  had  shut. 

But  to  descend  to  matters  of  daily  and  common  occurrence ; 
what  is  more  usual  in  conversation,  than  for  men  to  express 
their  unwillingness  to  do  a  thing,  by  saying  they  can  not  do 
it ;  and  for  a  covetous  man,  being  asked  a  little  money  in 
charity,  to  answer  that  he  has  none  ?  Which,  as  it  is,  if  true, 
a  sufficient  answer  to  God  and  man  ;  so,  if  false,  it  is  intoler 
able  hypocrisy  towards  both. 

But  do  men  in  good  earnest  think  that  God  will  be  put  oif 
so  ?  or  can  they  imagine  that  the  law  of  God  will  be  baffled 
with  a  lie  clothed  in  a  scoff? 

For  such  pretenses  are  no  better,  as  appears  from  that 
notable  account  given  us  by  the  apostle  of  this  windy,  insig 
nificant  charity  of  the  will,  and  of  the  worthlessness  of  it,  not 
enlivened  by  deeds,  James  ii.  15,  16,  If  a  brother  or  sister  be 
naked,  and  destitute  of  daily  food,  and  one  of  you  say  unto  them, 
Depart  in  peace,  be  ye  warmed  and  filled ;  notwithstanding  ye 
give  them  not  those  things  which  are  needful  to  the  body ;  what 


2  COR.  viii.  12.]  no  Excuse  for  bad  Actions.  205 

doth  it  profit  ?  Profit,  does  he  say  ?  Why,  it  profits  just  as  much 
as  fair  words  command  the  market,  as  good  wishes  huy  food 
and  raiment  and  pass  for  current  payment  in  the  shops. 
Come  to  an  old,  rich,  professing  vulpony,  and  tell  him  that 
there  is  a  church  to  be  built,  beautified,  or  endowed  in  such  a 
place,  and  that  he  can  not  lay  out  his  money  more  to  God's 
honor,  the  public  good,  and  the  comfort  of  his  own  conscience, 
than  to  bestow  it  liberally  upon  such  an  occasion  ;  and  in 
answer  to  this,  it  is  ten  to  one  but  you  shall  be  told,  "  how 
much  God  is  for  the  inward,  spiritual  worship  of  the  heart ; 
and  that  the  Almighty  neither  dwells  nor  delights  in  temples 
made  with  hands ;  but  hears  and  accepts  the  prayers  of  his 
people  in  dens  and  caves,  barns  and  stables ;  and  in  the 
homeliest  and  meanest  cottages,  as  well  as  in  the  stateliest 
and  most  magnificent  churches."  Thus,  I  say,  you  are  like 
to  be  answered.  In  reply  to  which,  I  would  have  all  such  sly, 
sanctified  cheats  (who  are  so  often  harping  upon  this  string) 
know,  once  for  all,  that  that  God  who  accepts  the  prayers  of 
his  people  in  dens  and  caves,  barns  and  stables,  when  by  his 
afflicting  providence  he  has  driven  them  from  the  appointed 
places  of  his  solemn  worship,  so  that  they  can  not  have  the 
use  of  them,  will  not,  for  all  this,  endure  to  be  served  or 
prayed  to  by  them  in  such  places,  nor  accept  of  their  barn- 
worship,  nor  their  hog-sty-worship;  no,  nor  yet  of  their  par 
lor  or  their  chamber  worship,  where  he  has  given  them  both 
wealth  and  power  to  build  him  churches.  For  he  that  com 
mands  us  to  worship  him  in  the  spirit,  commands  us  also  to 
honor  him  with  our  substance.  And  never  pretend  that  thou 
hast  an  heart  to  pray,  while  thou  hast  no  heart  to  give ;  since 
he  that  serves  mammon  with  his  estate,  can  not  possibly  serve 
God  with  his  heart.  For  as  in  the  heathen  worship  of  God, 
a  sacrifice  without  an  heart  was  accounted  ominous,  so  in 
the  Christian  worship  of  him,  an  heart  without  a  sacrifice  is 
worthless  and  impertinent. 

And  thus  much  for  men's  pretenses  of  the  will,  when 
they  are  called  upon  to  give  a  religious  account ;  according 
to  which,  a  man  may  be  well  enough  said  (as  the  common 
word  is)  to  be  all  heart,  and  yet  the  arrantest  miser  in  the 
world. 

But  come  we  now  to  this  old  rich  pretender  to  godliness, 


206  (rood  Inclinations  [SEEM.  x. 

in  another  case,  and  tell  him  that  there  is  such  an  one,  a 
man  of  a  good  family,  good  education,  and  who  has  lost  all 
his  estate  for  the  king,  now  ready  to  rot  in  prison  for  debt ; 
come,  what  will  you  give  towards  his  release  ?  Why,  then 
answers  the  will  instead  of  the  deed,  as  much  the  readier 
speaker  of  the  two,  "  the  truth  is,  I  always  had  a  respect  for 
such  men ;  I  love  them  with  all  my  heart ;  and  it  is  a  thou 
sand  pities  that  any  that  have  served  the  king  so  faithfully 
should  be  in  such  want."  So  say  I  too,  and  the  more  shame 
is  it  for  the  whole  nation,  that  they  should  be  so.  But  still, 
what  will  you  give  ?  Why,  then  answers  the  man  of  mouth- 
charity  again,  and  tells  you,  that  "  you  could  not  come  in  a 
worse  time ;  that  money  is  nowadays  very  scarce  with  him ; 
and  that  therefore  he  can  give  nothing ;  but  he  will  be  sure 
to  pray  for  the  poor  gentleman." 

Ah  thou  hypocrite !  when  thy  brother  has  lost  all  that  ever 
he  had,  and  lies  languishing,  and  even  gasping  under  the 
utmost  extremities  of  poverty  and  distress,  dost  thou  think 
thus  to  lick  him  whole  again,  only  with  thy  tongue  ?  Just  like 
that  old  formal  hocus,  who  denied  a  beggar  a  farthing,  and 
put  him  off  with  his  blessing. 

Why,  what  are  the  prayers  of  a  covetous  wretch  worth  ? 
What  will  thy  blessing  go  for  ?  What  will  it  buy  ?  Is  this 
the  charity  that  the  apostle  here,  in  the  text,  presses  upon 
the  Corinthians?  This  the  case  in  which  God  accepts  the 
willingness  of  the  mind,  instead  of  the  liberality  of  the  purse  ? 
No,  assuredly ;  but  the  measures  that  God  marks  out  to  thy 
charity  are  these:  thy  superfluities  must  give  place  to  thy 
neighbor's  great  convenience :  thy  convenience  must  veil  to 
thy  neighbor's  necessity  :  and  lastly,  thy  very  necessities  must 
yield  to  thy  neighbor's  extremity. 

This  is  the  gradual  process  that  must  be  thy  rule ;  and  he 
that  pretends  a  disability  to  give  short  of  this,  prevaricates 
with  his  duty,  and  evacuates  the  precept.  God  sometimes 
calls  upon  thee  to  relieve  the  needs  of  thy  poor  brother,  some 
times  the  necessities  of  thy  country,  and  sometimes  the  ur 
gent  wants  of  thy  prince :  now,  before  thou  fliest  to  the  old, 
stale,  usual  pretense,  that  thou  canst  do  none  of  all  these 
things,  consider  with  thyself,  that  there  is  a  God  who  is  not 
to  be  flammed  off  with  lies,  who  knows  exactly  what  thou  canst 


2  COR.  viii.  12.]  no  Excuse  for  bad  Actions.  207 

do,  and  what  thou  canst  not ;  and  consider  in  the  next  place 
that  it  is  not  the  best  husbandry  in  the  world,  to  be  damned 
to  save  charges. 

(4.)  The  fourth  and  last  duty  that  I  shall  mention,  in 
which  men  use  to  plead  want  of  power  to  do  the  thing  they 
have  a  will  to,  is  the  conquering  of  a  long,  inveterate,  ill  habit 
or  custom. 

And  the  truth  is,  there  is  nothing  that  leaves  a  man  less 
power  to  good  than  this  does.  Nevertheless  that  which 
weakens  the  hand  does  not  therefore  cut  it  off.  Some  power 
to  good,  no  doubt,  a  man  has  left  him  for  all  this.  And 
therefore  God  will  not  take  the  drunkard's  excuse,  that  he 
has  so  long  accustomed  himself  to  intemperate  drinking,  that 
now  he  can  not  leave  it  off;  nor  admit  of  the  passionate  man's 
apology,  that  he  has  so  long  given  his  unruly  passions  their 
head,  that  he  can  not  now  govern  or  control  them.  For  these 
things  are  not  so :  since  no  man  is  guilty  of  an  act  of  intem 
perance  of  any  sort,  but  he  might  have  forborne  it ;  not  with 
out  some  trouble,  I  confess,  from  the  stragglings  of  the 
contrary  habit :  but  still  the  thing  was  possible  to  be  done  ; 
and  he  might,  after  all,  have  forborne  it.  And,  as  he  forbore 
one  act,  so  he  might  have  forborne  another,  and  after  that 
another,  and  so  on,  till  he  had,  by  degrees,  weakened,  and  at 
length  mortified  and  extinguished  the  habit  itself.  That 
these  things,  indeed,  are  not  quickly  or  easily  to  be  effected, 
is  manifest,  and  nothing  will  be  more  readily  granted ;  and 
therefore  the  scripture  itself  owns  so  much,  by  expressing 
and  representing  these  mortifying  courses  by  acts  of  the 
greatest  toil  and  labor ;  such  as  are  warfare,  and  taking  up 
the  cross :  and  by  acts  of  the  most  terrible  violence  and  con 
trariety  to  nature ;  such  as  are  cutting  off  the  right  hand, 
and  plucking  out  the  right  eye ;  things  infinitely  grievous 
and  afflictive,  yet  still,  for  all  that,  feasible  in  themselves,  or 
else,  to  be  sure,  the  eternal  wisdom  of  God  would  never  have 
advised,  and  much  less  have  commanded  them.  For,  what 
God  has  commanded  must  be  done ;  and  what  must  be  clone 
assuredly  may  be  done ;  and  therefore  all  pleas  of  impotence, 
or  inability,  in  such  cases,  are  utterly  false  and  impertinent, 
and  will  infallibly  be  thrown  back  in  the  face  of  such  as  make 
them. 


208  Good  Inclinations  [SERM.  x. 

But  you  will  say,  Does  not  the  scripture  itself  acknowledge 
it  as  a  thing  impossible  for  a  man,  brought  under  a  custom  of 
sin,  to  forbear  sinning  ?  In  Jer.  xiii.  23,  Can  the  Ethiopian 
change  his  skin,  or  the  leopard  his  spots  ?  then  may  ye  also  do 
good,  that  are  accustomed  to  do  evil.  Now,  if  this  can  be  no 
more  done  than  the  former,  is  it  not  a  demonstration  that  it 
can  not  he  done  at  all  ? 

To  this  I  answer,  that  the  words  mentioned  are  tropical  or 
figurative,  and  import  a  hyperbole,  which  is  a  way  of  ex 
pressing  things  beyond  what  really  and  naturally  they  are  in 
themselves ;  and  consequently  the  design  of  this  scripture,  in 
saying  that  this  can  not  be  done,  is  no  more  than  to  show 
that  it  is  very  hardly  and  very  rarely  done ;  but  not,  in  strict 
truth,  utterly  impossible  to  be  done. 

In  vain  therefore  do  men  take  sanctuary  in  such  misunder 
stood  expressions  as  these ;  and  from  a  false  persuasion,  that 
they  can  not  reform  their  lives,  break  off  their  ill  customs, 
and  root  out  their  old,  vicious  habits,  never  so  much  as  at 
tempt,  endeavor,  or  go  about  it.  For,  admit  that  such  a 
habit,  seated  in  the  soul,  be,  as  our  Saviour  calls  it,  a  strong 
man  armed,  got  into  possession;  yet  still  he  may  be  dispos 
sessed,  and  thrown  out  by  a  stronger,  Luke  xi.  21,  22.  Or  be 
it,  as  St.  Paul  calls  it,  a  law  in  our  members,  Rom.  vii.  23, 
yet  certainly,  ill  laws  may  be  broken  and  disobeyed,  as  well 
as  good.  But,  if  men  will  suffer  themselves  to  be  enslaved, 
and  carried  away  by  their  lusts,  without  resistance,  and  wear 
the  devil's  yoke  quietly,  rather  than  be  at  the  trouble  of 
throwing  it  off,  and  thereupon  sometimes  feel  their  con 
sciences  galled  and  grieved  by  wearing  it,  they  must  not  from 
these  secret  stings  and  remorses,  felt  by  them  in  the  prosecu 
tion  of  their  sins,  presently  conclude  that  therefore  their  will 
is  good,  and  well  disposed,  and  consequently  such  as  God 
will  accept,  though  their  lives  remain  all  the  while  unchanged, 
and  as  much  under  the  dominion  of  sin  as  ever. 

These  reasonings,  I  know,  lie  deep  in  the  minds  of  most 
men,  and  relieve  and  support  their  hearts,  in  spite,  and  in 
the  midst  of  their  sins ;  but  they  are  all  but  sophistry  and 
delusion,  and  false  propositions  contrived  by  the  devil,  to 
hold  men  fast  in  their  sins  by  final  impenitence.  For  though 
possibly  the  grace  of  God  may,  in  some  cases,  be  irresistible, 


2  COR.  viii.  12.]  no  Excuse  for  bad  Actions.  209 

yet  it  would  be  an  infinite  reproach  to  his  providence  to  af 
firm  that  sin  either  is  or  can  be  so.  And  thus  I  have  given 
you  four  principal  instances  in  which  men  use  to  plead  the 
will  instead  of  the  deed,  upon  a  pretended  impotence,  or  dis 
ability  for  the  deed :  namely,  in  duties  of  great  labor ;  in 
duties  of  much  danger ;  in  duties  of  cost  and  expense ;  and 
lastly,  in  duties  requiring  a  resistance  and  an  extirpation  of 
inveterate,  sinful  habits. 

In  the  neglect  of  all  which,  men  relieve  their  consciences 
by  this  one  great  fallacy  running  through  them  all,  that  they 
mistake  difficulties  for  impossibilities.  A  pernicious  mistake 
certainly ;  and  the  more  pernicious,  for  that  men  are  seldom 
convinced  of  it  till  their  conviction  can  do  them  no  good. 
There  can  not  be  a  weightier  or  more  important  case  of  con 
science  for  men  to  be  resolved  in,  than  to  know  certainly  how 
far  God  accepts  the  will  for  the  deed,  and  how  far  he  does  not : 
and  withal,  to  be  informed  truly  when  men  do  really  will  a 
thing,  and  when  they  have  really  no  power  to  do  what  they 
have  willed. 

For  surely  it  can  not  but  be  matter  of  very  dreadful  and 
terrifying  consideration  to  any  one  sober,  and  in  his  wits,  to 
think  seriously  with  himself,  what  horror  and  confusion  must 
needs  surprise  that  man,  at  the  last  and  great  day  of  account, 
who  had  led  his  whole  life  and  governed  all  his  actions  by  one 
rule,  when  God  intends  to  judge  him  by  another. 

To  which  God,  the  great  searcher  and  judge  of  hearts,  and  re- 
warder  of  men  according  to  their  deeds,  be  rendered  and 
ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise,  might,  majesty,  and  do 
minion,  both  now  and  for  evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  XT. 


A   SERMON   PREACHED   AT   CHRIST    CHURCH,    OXON, 
BEFORE    THE   UNIVERSITY,    OCTOBER  17,  1675. 


JUDGES  viii.  84,  35.  —  And  the  children  of  Israel  remembered  not  the  Lord  their  God, 
who  had  delivered  them  out  of  the  hands  of  all  their  enemies  on  every  side:  neither 
shewed  they  kindness  to  the  house  of  Jerubbaal,  namely,  Gideon,  according  to  all  the 
goodness  which  he  had  shewed  unto  Israel. 

THESE  words,  being  a  result  or  judgment  given  upon 
matter  of  fact,  naturally  direct  us  to  the  foregoing  story, 
to  inform  us  of  their  occasion.  The  subject  of  which  story 
was  that  heroic  and  victorious  judge  of  Israel,  Gideon ;  who, 
by  the  greatness  of  his  achievements,  had  merited  the  offer 
of  a  crown  and  kingdom,  and,  by  the  greatness  of  his  mind, 
refused  it.  The  whole  narrative  is  contained  and  set  before 
us  in  the  6th,  7th,  8th,  and  9th  chapters  of  this  book.  Where 
we  read,  that  when  the  children  of  Israel,  according  to  their 
usual  method  of  sinning  after  mercies  and  deliverances,  and 
thereupon  returning  to  a  fresh  enslavement  to  their  ene 
mies,  had  now  passed  seven  years  in  cruel  subjection  to  the 
Midianites,  a  potent  and  insulting  enemy ;  and  who  op 
pressed  them  to  that  degree  that  they  had  scarce  bread  to  fill 
their  mouths,  or  houses  to  cover  their  heads :  for  in  the  2d 
verse  of  the  6th  chapter  we  find  them  housing  themselves 
underground,  in  dens  and  caves ;  and  in  ver.  3,  4,  no  sooner 
had  they  sown  their  corn,  but  we  have  the  enemy  coming  up 
in  armies,  and  destroying  it.  In  this  sad  and  calamitous 
condition,  I  say,  in  which  one  would  have  thought  that  a  de 
liverance  from  such  an  oppressor  would  have  even  revived 
them,  and  the  deliverer  eternally  obliged  them,  God  raised 
up  the  spirit  of  this  great  person,  and  ennobled  his  courage 


JUDGES  viii.  34,  35.]    Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  211 

* 

and  conduct  with  the  entire  overthrow  of  this  mighty  and 
numerous,  or  rather  innumerable  host  of  the  Midianites; 
and  that  in  such  a  manner,  and  with  such  strange  and  un 
paralleled  circumstances,  that,  in  the  whole  action,  the  mercy 
and  the  miracle  seemed  to  strive  for  the  preeminence.  And 
so  quick  a  sense  did  the  Israelites,  immediately  after  it,  seem 
to  entertain  of  the  merits  of  Gideon,  and  the  obligation  he 
had  laid  upon  them,  that  they  all,  as  one  man,  tender  him 
the  regal  and  hereditary  government  of  that  people,  in  the 
22 d  verse  of  this  8th  chapter  :  Then  said  the  men  of  Israel  to 
G-ideon,  Eule  thou  over  us,  both  thou,  and  thy  son  and  thy  son's 
son  also  :  for  thou  hast  delivered  us  from  the  hand  of  Midian. 
To  which  he  answered  as  magnanimously,  and  by  that  answer 
redoubled  the  obligation,  in  the  next  verse,  I  will  not  rule  over 
you,  neither  shall  my  son  rule  over  you  :  the  Lord  shall  rule  over 
you. 

Thus  far  then  we  see  the  workings  of  a  just  gratitude  in  the 
Israelites  ;  and  goodness  on  the  one  side  nobly  answered  with 
greatness  on  the  other.  And  now,  after  so  vast  an  obliga 
tion,  owned  by  so  free  an  acknowledgment,  could  any  thing 
be  expected,  but  a  continual  interchange  of  kindnesses,  at 
least  on  their  part,  who  had  been  so  infinitely  obliged  and 
so  gloriously  delivered  ?  Yet  in  the  9th  chapter  we  find 
these  very  men  turning  the  sword  of  Gideon  into  his  own 
bowels  ;  cutting  off  the  very  race  and  posterity  of  their  de 
liverer,  by  the  slaughter  of  three-score  and  ten  of  his  sons, 
and  setting  up  the  son  of  his  concubine,  the  blot  of  his 
family,  and  the  monument  of  his  shame,  to  reign  over  them ; 
and  all  this  without  the  least  provocation  or  offense  given 
them,  either  by  Gideon  himself,  or  by  any  of  his  house. 
After  which  horrid  fact,  I  suppose  we  can  no  longer  wonder 
at  this  unlooked-for  account  given  of  the  Israelites  in  the 
text :  That  they  remembered  not  the  Lord  tJieir  God,  who  had 
delivered  them  out  of  the  hands  of  all  their  enemies  on  every  side  : 
neither  shewed  tliey  kindness  to  the  house  of  Gideon,  according  to 
all  the  goodness  which  he  liad  shewed  unto  Israel. 

The  truth  is,  they  were  all  along  a  cross,  odd,  untoward 
sort  of  people,  and  such  as  God  seems  to  have  chosen,  and 
(as  the  prophets  sometimes  phrase  it)  to  have  espoused  to 
himself,  upon  the  very  same  account  that  Socrates  espoused 


212  Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  [SERM.  XL 

* 

Xantippe,  only  for  her  extreme  ill  conditions,  above  all  that 
he  could  possibly  find  or  pick  out  of  that  sex ;  and  so  the 
fittest  argument  both  to  exercise  and  declare  his  admirable 
patience  to  the  world. 

The  words  of  the  text  are  a  charge  given  in  against  the 
Israelites ;  a  charge  of  that  foul  and  odious  sin  of  ingratitude ; 
and  that  both  towards  God  and  towards  man :  towards  God 
in  the  34th  verse,  and  towards  man  in  the  35th.  Such  being 
ever  the  growing  contagion  of  this  ill  quality,  that  if  it 
begins  at  God,  it  naturally  descends  to  men ;  and  if  it  first 
exerts  itself  upon  men,  it  infallibly  ascends  to  God.  If  we 
consider  it  as  directed  against  God,  it  is  a  breach  of  religion ; 
if  as  to  men,  it  is  an  offense  against  morality.  The  passage 
from  one  to  the  other  is  very  easy ;  breach  of  duty  towards 
our  neighbor  still  involving  in  it  a  breach  of  duty  towards 
God  too  ;  and  no  man's  religion  ever  survives  his  morals. 

My  purpose  is,  from  this  remarkable  subject  and  occasion, 
to  treat  of  ingratitude,  and  that  chiefly  in  this  latter  sense ; 
and  from  the  case  of  the  Israelites  towards  Gideon,  to  traverse 
the  nature,  principles,  and  properties  of  this  detestable  vice ; 
and  so  drawing  before  your  eyes  the  several  lineaments  and 
parts  of  it,  from  the  ugly  aspect  of  the  picture,  to  leave  it  to 
your  own  hearts  to  judge  of  the  original.  For  the  effecting 
of  which  I  shall  do  these  following  things  : 

I.  I  shall  show  what  gratitude  is,  and  upon  what  the  obli 
gation  to  it  is  grounded. 

II.  I  shall  give  some  account  of  the  nature  and  baseness 
of  ingratitude. 

III.  I   shall   show  the  principle  from  which  ingratitude 
proceeds. 

IV.  I  shall  show  those  ill  qualities  that  inseparably  attend 
it,  and  are  never  disjoined  from  it.     And, 

V.  and  lastly,  I  shall  draw  some  useful  inferences,  by  way 
of  application,  from  the  premises. 

And  first  for  the  first  of  these:  What  gratitude  is,  and 
upon  what  the  obligation  to  it  is  grounded. 

"  Gratitude  is  properly  a  virtue,  disposing  the  mind  to  an 
inward  sense  and  an  outward  acknowledgment  of  a  benefit  re 
ceived,  together  with  a  readiness  to  return  the  same,  or  the 
like,  as  the  occasions  of  the  doer  of  it  shall  require,  and  the 
abilities  of  the  receiver  extend  to." 


JUDGES  viii.  34, 35.]     Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  213 

This,  to  me,  seems  to  contain  a  full  description,  or  rather 
definition,  of  this  virtue  ;  from  which  it  appears  that  gratitude 
includes  in  it  these  three  parts  : 

1.  A  particular  observation,  or  taking  notice  of  a  kindness 
received,  and  consequently  of  the  good  will  and  affection  of 
the  person  who  did  that  kindness.     For  still,  in   this  case, 
the  mind  of  the  giver  is  more  to  he  attended  to  than  the 
matter  of  the  gift ;   it  being  this  that  stamps  it  properly  a 
favor,  and  gives  it  the  noble  and  endearing  denomination  of  a 
kindness. 

2.  The  second  part  of  gratitude  is   that  which  brings  it 
from  the  heart  into  the  mouth,  and  makes  a  man  express  the 
sense  he  has  of  the  benefit  done  him,  by  thanks,  acknowledg 
ments,  and  gratulations ;  and  where  the  heart  is  full  of  the 
one,  it  will  certainly  overflow,  and  run  over  in  the  other. 

3.  The  third  and  last  is  an   endeavor  to  recompense  our 
benefactor,  and  to  do  something  that   may  redound  to   his 
advantage,  in  consideration  of  what  he  has  done  towards  ours. 
I  state  it  upon  endeavor,  and  not  upon  effect ;  for  this  latter 
may  be  often  impossible.     But  it  is  in  the  power  of  every  one 
to  do  as  much  as  he  can ;  to  make  some  essay  at  least,  some 
offer  and   attempt  this  way ;   so  as  to  show  that  there  is  a 
spring  of  motion  within,  and  that  the  heart  is  not  idle  or 
insensible,  but  that  it  is  full  and  big,  and  knows  itself  to  be 
so,  though  it  wants  strength  to  bring  forth.     Having  thus 
shown  what  gratitude  is,  the  next  thing  is  to  show  the  obliga 
tion  that  it  brings  upon  a  man,  and  the  ground  and  reason 
of  that  obligation. 

As  for  the  obligation,  I  know  no  moralists  or  casuists  that 
treat  scholastically  of  justice,  but  treat  of  gratitude  under  that 
general  head,  as  a  part  or  species  of  it.  And  the  nature  and 
office  of  justice  being  to  dispose  the  mind  to  a  constant  and 
perpetual  readiness  to  render  to  every  man  his  due,  suum  cui- 
que  tribuere,  it  is  evident,  that  if  gratitude  be  a  part  of  justice, 
it  must  be  conversant  about  something  that  is  due  to  another. 
And  whatsoever  is  so,  must  be  so  by  the  force  of  some  law. 
Now,  all  law  that  a  man  is  capable  of  being  obliged  by,  is 
reducible  to  one  of  these  three  : 

1.  The  law  of  nature.  2.  The  positive  law  of  God  revealed 
in  his  word.  3.  The  law  of  man,  enacted  by  the  civil  power, 
for  the  preservation  and  good  of  society. 


214  Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  [SERM.  XL 

1.  And  first  for  the  law  of  nature,  which  I  take  to  be  noth 
ing  else  but  the  mind  'of  God  signified  to  a  rational  agent, 
by  the  bare  discourse  of  his  reason,  and  dictating  to  him,  that 
he  ought  to  act  suitably  to  the  principles  of  his  nature,  and 
to  those  relations  that  he  stands  under.  For  every  thing  sus 
tains  both  an  absolute  and  a  relative  capacity.  An  absolute, 
as  it  is  such  a  thing  endued  with  such  a  nature ;  and  a  rela 
tive,  as  it  is  a  part  of  the  universe,  and  so  stands  in  such  an 
order  and  relation  both  to  the  whole  and  to  the  rest  of  the 
parts. 

After  which,  the  next  consideration  immediately  subsequent 
to  the  being  of  a  thing,  is,  what  agrees  or  disagrees  with  that 
thing ;  what  is  suitable  or  unsuitable  to  it ;  and  from  this 
springs  the  notion  of  decency  or  indecency ;  that  which  be 
comes  or  misbecomes,  and  is  the  same  with  honestum  et  turpe. 
Which  decency,  or  TO  T^CT-OV,  (as  the  Greeks  term  it,)  imports 
a  certain  measure  or  proportion  of  one  thing  to  another ; 
which  to  transgress,  is  to  do  contrary  to  the  natural  order  of 
things;  the  preservation  of  which  is  properly  that  rule  or 
law  by  which  every  thing  ought  to  act;  and  consequently 
the  violation  of  it  implies  a  turpitude  or  indecency.  Now 
those  actions  that  are  suitable  to  a  rational  nature,  and  to 
that  irptirov,  that  decency  or  honestum,  belonging  to  it,  are 
contained  and  expressed  in  certain  maxims  or  propositions, 
which,  upon  the  repeated  exercise  of  a  man's  reason  about 
such  objects  as  come  before  him,  do  naturally  result,  and  are 
collected  from  thence;  and  so  remaining  upon  his  mind, 
become  both  a  rule  to  direct  and  a  law  to  oblige  him  in  the 
whole  course  of  his  actions.  Such  as  are  these  maxims,  That 
the  supreme  being,  cause,  and  governor  of  all  things  ought 
to  be  worshiped  and  depended  upon.  That  parents  are  to  be 
honored.  That  a  man  should  do  as  he  would  be  done  by. 
From  which  last  alone  may  sufficiently  be  deduced  all  those 
rules  of  charity  and  justice  that  are  to  govern  the  offices  of 
common  life  ;  and  which  alone  is  enough  to  found  an  obliga 
tion  to  gratitude  :  forasmuch  as  no  man,  having  done  a  kind 
ness  to  another,  would  acquiesce  or  think  himself  justly  dealt 
with  in  a  total  neglect  and  unconcernedness  of  the  person 
who  had  received  that  kindness  from  him ;  and  consequently 
neither  ought  he  to  be  unconcerned  in  the  same  case  himself. 


j u DOES  viii.  34,35.]    Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  215 

But  I  shall,  from  other  and  nearer  principles,  and  those  the 
unquestionable  documents  and  dictates  of  the  law  of  nature, 
evince  the  obligation  and  debt  lying  upon  every  man  to  show 
gratitude  where  he  has  received  a  benefit.  Such  as  are  these 
propositions : 

(1.)  That  according  to  the  rule  of  natural  justice,  one  man 
may  merit  and  deserve  of  another.  (2.)  That  whosoever  de 
serves  of  another,  makes  something  due  to  him  from  the 
person  of  whom  he  deserves.  (3.)  That  one  man's  deserving 
of  another  is  founded  upon  his  conferring  on  him  some  good, 
to  which  that  other  had  no  right  or  claim.  (4.)  That  no  man 
has  any  antecedent  right  or  claim  to  that  which  comes  to  him 
by  free  gift.  (5.)  And  lastly,  that  all  desert  imports  an 
equality  between  the  good  conferred  and  the  good  deserved, 
or  made  due.  From  whence  it  follows,  that  he  who  confers  a 
good  upon  another,  deserves  and  consequently  has  a  claim  to 
an  equal  good  from  the  person  upon  whom  it  was  conferred. 
So  that  from  hence,  by  the  law  of  nature,  springs  a  debt ;  the 
acknowledging  and  repaying  of  which  debt  (as  a  man  shall  be 
able)  is  the  proper  office  and  work  of  gratitude. 

As  certain  therefore  as  by  the  law  of  nature  there  may  be, 
and  often  is,  such  a  thing  as  merit  and  desert  from  one  man 
to  another ;  and  as  desert  gives  the  person  deserving  a  right 
or  claim  to  some  good  from  the  person  of  whom  he  deserves ; 
and  as  a  right  in  one  to  claim  this  good  infers  a  debt  and 
obligation  in  the  other  to  pay  it ;  so  certain  it  is,  by  a  direct 
gradation  of  consequences  from  this  principle  of  merit,  that 
the  obligation  to  gratitude  flows  from,  and  is  enjoined  by,  the 
first  dictates  of  nature.  And  the  truth  is,  the  greatest  and 
most  sacred  ties  of  duty  that  man  is  capable  of,  are  founded 
upon  gratitude.  Such  as  are  the  duties  of  a  child  to  his 
parent,  and  of  a  subject  to  his  sovereign.  From  the  former 
of  which  there  is  required  love  and  honor,  in  recompense  of 
being ;  and  from  the  latter,  obedience  and  subjection,  in  rec 
ompense  of  protection  and  wellbeing.  And,  in  general,  if 
the  conferring  of  a  kindness  did  not  bind  the  person  upon 
whom  it  was  conferred  to  the  returns  of  gratitude,  why,  in 
the  universal  dialect  of  the  world,  are  kindnesses  still  called 
obligations  ? 

And  thus   much  for  the  first  ground,  enforcing  the  obli- 


216  Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  [SEEM.  xi. 

gations   of  gratitude ;    namely,  the  law  of  nature.     In  the 
next  place, 

2.  As  for  the  positive  law  of  God  revealed  in  his  word,  it 
is  evident  that  gratitude  must  needs  be  enjoined  and  made 
necessary  by  all  those  scriptures  that  upbraid  or  forbid  in 
gratitude  ;  as  in  2  Tim.  iii.  2,  the  unthankful  stand  reckoned 
among  the  highest  and  most  enormous  sinners ;  which  suf 
ficiently  evinces  the  virtue  opposite  to  unthankfulness  to  bear 
the  same  place  in  the  rank  of  duties  that  its  contrary  does 
in  the  catalogue  of  sins.     And  the  like,  by  consequence,  is 
inferred  from  all  those  places  in  which  we  are  commanded  to 
love  our  enemies,  and  to  do  good  to  those  that  hate  us  :  and 
therefore  certainly  much  more  are  we  by  the  same  commanded 
to  do  good  to  those  that  have  prevented  us  with  good,  and 
actually  obliged  us.     So  that  it  is  manifest  that  by  the  posi 
tive  written  law  of  God,  no  less  than  by  the  law  of  nature, 
gratitude  is  a  debt. 

3.  In  the  third  and  last  place ;  as  for  the  laws  of  men, 
enacted  by  the  civil  power,  it  must  be  confessed  that  grati 
tude  is  not  enforced  by  them ;  I  say,  not  enforced,  that  is, 
not  enjoined  by  the  sanction  of  penalties,  to  be  inflicted  upon 
the  person  that  shall  not  be  found  grateful.     T  grant  indeed 
that  many  actions  are  punished  by  law  that  are  acts  of  ingrat 
itude  ;   but  this  is  merely  accidental  to  them,  as  they  are  such 
acts ;  for  if  they  were  punished  properly  under  that  notion, 
and  upon  that  account,  the  punishment  would  equally  reach 
all  actions  of  the  same  kind ;  but  they  are  punished  and  pro 
vided  against  by  law,  as  they  are  gross  and  dangerous  viola 
tions  of  societies,  and  that  common  good  that  it  is  the  busi 
ness  of  the  civil  laws  of  all  nations  to  protect  and  to  take  care 
of:  which  good  not  being  violated  or  endangered  by  every 
omission  of  gratitude  between  man  and  man,  the  laws  make 
no  peculiar  provision  to  secure  the  exercise  of  this  virtue,  but 
leave  it  as  they  found  it,  sufficiently  enjoined,  and  made  a  duty 
by  the  law  of  God  and  nature. 

Though  in  the  Roman  law  indeed  there  is  this  particular 
provision  against  the  breach  of  this  duty  in  case  of  slaves, 
that  if  a  lord  manumits  and  makes  free  his  slave,  gross  in 
gratitude  in  the  person  so  made  free  forfeits  his  freedom, 
and  reasserts  him  to  his  former  condition  of  slavery  ;  though 


JUDGES  viii.  34, 35.]     Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  217 

perhaps  even  this  also,  upon  an  accurate  consideration,  will 
be  found  not  a  provision  against  ingratitude,  properly  an,d 
formally  as  such,  but  as  it  is  the  ingratitude  of  slaves,  which, 
if  left  unpunished  in  a  commonwealth  where  it  was  the  cus 
tom  for  men  to  be  served  by  slaves,  as  in  Rome  it  was,  would 
quickly  have  been  a  public  nuisance  and  disturbance ;  for  such 
is  the  peculiar  insolence  of  this  sort  of  men,  such  the  incor 
rigible  vileness  of  all  slavish  spirits,  that  though  freedom  may 
rid  them  of  the  baseness  of  their  condition,  yet  it  never  takes 
off  the  baseness  of  their  minds. 

And  now,  having  shown  both  what  gratitude  is,  and  the 
ground  and  reason  of  men's  obligation  to  it,  we  have  a  full 
account  of  the  proper  and  particular  nature  of  this  virtue,  as 
consisting  adequately  in  these  two  things :  first,  that  it  is  a 
debt ;  and,  secondly,  that  it  is  such  a  debt  as  is  left  to  every 
man's  ingenuity,  (in  respect  of  any  legal  coaction,)  whether 
he  will  pay  or  no  ;  for  there  lies  no  action  of  debt  against  him, 
if  he  will  not.  He  is  in  danger  of  no  arrest,  bound  over  to 
no  assize,  nor  forced  to  hold  up  his  unworthy  hand  (the  in 
strument  of  his  ingratitude)  at  any  bar. 

And  this  it  is  that  shows  the  rare  and  distinguishing  excel 
lency  of  gratitude,  and  sets  it  as  a  crown  upon  the  head  of 
all  other  virtues,  that  it  should  plant  such  an  overruling  gen 
erosity  in  the  heart  of  man,  as  shall  more  effectually  incline 
him  to  what  is  brave  and  becoming,  than  the  terror  of  any 
penal  law  whatsoever.  So  that  he  shall  feel  a  greater  force 
upon  himself  from  within,  and  from  the  control  of  his  own 
principles,  to  engage  him  to  do  worthily,  than  all  threaten- 
ings  and  punishments,  racks  and  tortures  can  have  upon  a 
low  and  servile  mind,  that  never  acts  virtuously  but  as  it  is 
acted  ;  that  knows  no  principle  of  doing  well,  but  fear ;  no 
conscience,  but  constraint.  On  the  contrary,  the  grateful 
person  fears  no  court  or  judge,  no  sentence  or  executioner, 
but  what  he  carries  about  him  in  his  own  breast :  and  being 
still  the  most  severe  exactor  of  himself,  not  only  confesses 
but  proclaims  his  debts ;  his  ingenuity  is  his  bond,  and  his 
conscience  a  thousand  witnesses :  so  that  the  debt  must 
needs  be  sure,  yet  he  scorns  to  be  sued  for  it ;  nay,  rather, 
he  is  always  suing,  importuning,  and  even  reproaching  him 
self,  till  he  can  clear  accounts  with  his  benefactor.  His  heart 


218  Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  [SEKM.  XL 

is,  as  it  were,  in  continual  labor  :  it  even  travails  with  the  ob 
ligation,  and  is  in  pangs  till  it  be  delivered  :  and  as  David, 
in  the  overflowing  sense  of  God's  goodness  to  him,  cries  out, 
in  the  116th  Psalm,  ver.  12,  What  shall  I  render  unto  the 
Lord  for  all  his  benefits  towards  me  ?  so  the  grateful  person, 
pressed  down  under  the  apprehension  of  any  great  kindness 
done  him,  eases  his  burdened  mind  a  little  by  such  expostu 
lations  with  himself  as  these  :  "  What  shall  I  do  for  such  a 
friend,  for  such  a  patron,  who  has  so  frankly,  so  generously, 
so  unconstrainedly  relieved  me  in  such  a  distress ;  supported 
me  against  such  an  enemy ;  supplied,  cherished,  and  upheld 
me  when  relations  would  not  know  me,  or  at  least  could  not 
help  me ;  and,  in  a  word,  has  prevented  my  desires,  and  out 
done  my  necessities  ?  I  can  never  do  enough  for  him ;  my 
own  conscience  would  spit  in  my  face,  should  I  ever  slight  or 
forget  such  favors."  These  are  the  expostulating  dialogues 
and  contests  that  every  grateful,  every  truly  noble  and  mag 
nanimous  person  has  with  himself.  It  was,  in  part,  a  brave 
speech  of  Luc.  Cornelius  Sylla,  the  Roman  dictator,  who  said, 
"  that  he  found  no  sweetness  in  being  great  or  powerful,  but 
only  that  it  enabled  him  to  crush  his  enemies  and  to  gratify 
his  friends." 

I  can  not  warrant  or  defend  the  first  part  of  this  saying ; 
but  surely  he  that  employs  his  greatness  in  the  latter,  be  he 
never  so  great,  it  must  and  will  make  him  still  greater. 

And  thus  much  for  the  first  general  thing  proposed,  which 
was  to  show  what  gratitude  is,  and  upon  what  the  obligation 
to  it  is  grounded.  I  proceed  now  to  the  second, 

Which  is  to  give  some  account  of  the  nature  and  baseness 
of  ingratitude. 

There  is  not  any  one  vice  or  ill  quality  incident  to  the  mind 
of  man  against  which  the  world  has  raised  such  a  loud  and 
universal  outcry,  as  against  ingratitude :  a  vice  never  men 
tioned  by  any  heathen  writer,  but  with  a  particular  hight  of 
detestation  ;  and  of  such  a  malignity,  that  human  nature 
must  be  stripped  of  humanity  itself  before  it  can  be  guilty 
of  it.  It  is  instead  of  all  other  vices,  and,  in  the  balance 
of  morality,  a  counterpoise  to  them  all.  In  the  charge  of 
ingratitude,  omnia  dixeris :  it  is  one  great  blot  upon  all  mo 
rality  :  it  is  all  in  a  word  :  it  says  Amen  to  the  black  roll  of 
sins :  it  gives  completion  and  confirmation  to  them  all. 


JUDGES  viii.  34, 35.]    Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  219 

If  we  would  state  the  nature  of  it,  recourse  must  be  had  to 
what  has  been  already  said  of  its  contrary ;  and  so  it  is  prop 
erly  an  insensibility  of  kindnesses  received,  without  any  en 
deavor  either  to  acknowledge  or  repay  them. 

To  repay  them,  indeed,  by  a  return  equivalent,  is  not  in 
every  one's  power,  and  consequently  can  not  be  his  duty ;  but 
thanks  are  a  tribute  payable  by  the  poorest ;  the  most  forlorn 
widow  has  her  two  mites ;  and  there  is  none  so  indigent  but 
has  an  heart  to  be  sensible  of,  and  a  tongue  to  express,  its 
sense  of  a  benefit  received. 

For,  surely,  nature  gives  no  man  a  mouth  to  be  always  eat 
ing,  and  never  saying  grace ;  nor  an  hand  only  to  grasp  and 
to  receive  :  but  as  it  is  furnished  with  teeth  for  the  one,  so  it 
should  have  a  tongue  also  for  the  other ;  and  the  hands  that 
are  so  often  reached  out  to  take  and  to  accept,  should  be 
sometimes  lifted  up  also  to  bless.  The  world  is  maintained 
by  intercourse ;  and  the  whole  course  of  nature  is  a  great  ex 
change,  in  which  one  good  turn  is  and  ought  to  be  the  stated 
price  of  another. 

If  you  consider  the  universe  as  one  body,  you  shall  find 
society  and  conversation  to  supply  the  office  of  the  blood  and 
spirits  ;  and  it  is  gratitude  that  makes  them  circulate.  Look 
over  the  whole  creation,  and  you  shall  see  that  the  band  or 
cement  that  holds  together  all  the  parts  of  this  great  and 
glorious  fabric  is  gratitude,  or  something  like  it :  you  may 
observe  it  in  all  the  elements ;  for  does  not  the  air  feed  the 
flame?  and  does  not  the  flame  at  the  same  time  warm  and 
enlighten  the  air  ?  Is  not  the  sea  always  sending  forth  as  well 
as  taking  in  ?  And  does  not  the  earth  quit  scores  with  all  the 
elements,  in  the  noble  fruits  and  productions  that  issue  from 
it  ?  And  in  all  the  light  and  influence  that  the  heavens  be 
stow  upon  this  lower  world,  though  the  lower  world  can  not 
equal  their  benefaction,  yet,  with  a  kind  of  grateful  return,  it 
reflects  those  rays  that  it  can  not  recompense  :  so  that  there 
is  some  return  however,  though  there  can  be  no  requital. 
He  who  has  a  soul  wholly  void  of  gratitude,  should  do  well 
to  set  his  soul  to  learn  of  his  body ;  for  all  the  parts  of  that 
minister  to  one  another.  The  hands,  and  all  the  other  limbs, 
labor  to  bring  in  food  and  provision  to  the  stomach,  and  the 
stomach  returns  what  it  has  received  from  them  in  strength 


220  Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  [SERM.  xi. 

and  nutriment,  diffused  into  all  the  parts  and  members  of  the 
body.  It  would  be  endless  to  pursue  the  like  allusions:  in 
short,  gratitude  is  the  great  spring  that  sets  all  the  wheels  of 
nature  agoing ;  and  the  whole  universe  is  supported  by  giv 
ing  and  returning,  by  commerce  and  commutation. 

And  now,  thou  ungrateful  brute,  thou  blemish  to  mankind, 
and  reproach  to  thy  creation,  what  shall  we  say  of  thee,  or 
to  what  shall  we  compare  thee  ?  For  thou  art  an  exception 
from  all  the  visible  world;  neither  the  heavens  above,  nor  the 
earth  beneath,  afford  any  thing  like  thee :  and  therefore,  if 
thou  wouldest  find  thy  parallel,  go  to  hell,  which  is  both  the 
region  and  the  emblem  of  ingratitude;  for,  besides  thyself, 
there  is  nothing  but  hell  that  is  always  receiving  and  never 
restoring. 

And  thus  much  for  the  nature  and  baseness  of  ingratitude, 
as  it  has  been  represented  in  the  description  given  of  it. 
Come  we  now  to  the 

Third  thing  proposed,  which  is  to  show  the  principle  from 
which  it  proceeds.  And  to  give  you  this  in  one  word,  it 
proceeds  from  that  which  we  call  ill-nature.  Which  being  a 
word  that  occurs  frequently  in  discourse,  and  in  the  charac 
ters  given  of  persons,  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  inquire  into  the 
proper  sense  and  signification  of  this  expression.  In  order  to 
which  we  must  observe,  that,  according  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
philosopher,  man  being  a  creature  designed  and  framed  by 
nature  for  society  and  conversation,  such  a  temper  or  dispo 
sition  of  mind  as  inclines  him  to  those  actions  that  promote 
society  and  mutual  fellowship  is  properly  called  good-nature  : 
which  actions,  though  almost  innumerable  in  their  particu 
lars,  yet  seem  reducible  .in  general  to  these  two  principles  of 
action. 

1.  A  proneness  to  do  good  to  others. 

2.  A  ready  sense  of  any  good  done  by  others. 

And  where  these  two  meet  together,  as  they  are  scarce 
ever  found  asunder,  it  is  impossible  for  that  person  not  to  be 
kind,  beneficial,  and  obliging  to  all  whom  he  converses  with. 
On  the  contrary,  ill-nature  is  such  a  disposition  as  inclines 
a  man  to  those  actions  that  thwart,  and  sour,  and  disturb 
conversation  between  man  and  man  ;  and  accordingly  consists 
of  two  qualities  directly  contrary  to  the  former. 


JUDGES  viii.  34, 35.]     Of  tlie  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  221 

1.  A  proneness  to  do  ill  turns,  attended  with  a  complacency, 
or  secret  joy  of  mind,  upon  the  sight  of  any  mischief  that 
befalls  another.     And, 

2.  An  utter  insensibility  of  any  good  or  kindness  done  him 
by  others.      I  mean  not  that  he   is   insensible  of  the   good 
itself ;  but  that,  although  he  finds,  feels,  and  enjoys  the  good 
that  is  done  him,  yet  he  is  wholly  insensible  and  unconcerned 
to  value,  or  take  notice  of  the  benignity  of  him  that  does  it. 

Now  either  of  these  ill  qualities,  and  much  more  both  of 
them  together,  denominate  a  person  ill-natured ;  they  being 
such  as  make  him  grievous  and  uneasy  to  all  whom  he  deals 
and  associates  himself  with.  For  from  the  former  of  these 
proceed  envy,  an  aptness  to  slander  and  revile,  to  cross  and 
hinder  a  man  in  his  lawful  advantages.  For  these  and  such 
like  actions  feed  and  gratify  that  base  humor  of  mind,  which 
gives  a  man  a  delight  in  making,  at  least  in  seeing,  his 
neighbor  miserable  :  and  from  the  latter  issues  that  vile  thing 
which  we  have  been  hitherto  speaking  of,  to  wit,  ingratitude  : 
into  which  all  kindnesses  and  good  turns  fall,  as  into  a  kind 
of  dead  sea.  It  being  a  quality  that  confines  and,  as  it  were, 
shuts  up  a  man  wholly  within  himself,  leaving  him  void  of 
that  principle  which  alone  should  dispose  him  to  communi 
cate  and  impart  those  redundancies  of  good  that  he  is  pos 
sessed  of.  No  man  ever  goes  sharer  with  the  ungrateful 
person ;  be  he  never  so  full,  he  never  runs  over.  But  (like 
Gideon's  fleece)  though  filled  and  replenished  with  the  dew 
of  heaven  himself,  yet  he  leaves  all  dry  and  empty  about  him. 

Now  this  surely,  if  any  thing,  is  an  effect  of  ill-nature. 
And  what  is  ill-nature  but  a  pitch  beyond  original  corrup 
tion  ?  It  is  corruptio  pessimi.  A  further  depravation  of  that 
which  was  stark  naught  before.  But,  so  certainly  does  it 
shoot  forth  and  show  itself  in  this  vice,  that  wheresoever  you 
see  ingratitude,  you  may  as  infallibly  conclude  that  there  is 
a  growing  stock  of  ill-nature  in  that  breast,  as  you  may  know 
that  man  to  have  the  plague  upon  whom  you  see  the  tokens. 

Having  thus  shown  you  from  whence  this  ill  quality  pro 
ceeds,  pass  we  now  to  the 

Fourth  thing  proposed,  which  is  to  show  those  other  ill 
qualities  that  inseparably  attend  ingratitude,  and  are  never 
disjoined  from  it. 


222  Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  [SEKM.  xi. 

It  is  a  saying  common  in  use,  and  true  in  observation,  that 
the  disposition  and  temper  of  a  man  may  be  gathered  as  well 
from  his  companion  or  associate  as  from  himself.  And  it 
holds  in  qualities  as  it  does  in  persons :  it  being  seldom  or 
never  known,  that  any  great  virtue  or  vice  went  alone ;  for 
greatness  in  every  thing  will  still  be  attended  on. 

How  black  and  base  a  vice  ingratitude  is,  we  have  seen  by 
considering  it  both  in  its  own  nature  and  in  the  principle 
from  which  it  springs ;  and  we  may  see  the  same  yet  more 
fully  in  those  vices  which  it  is  always  in  combination  with. 
Two  of  which  I  shall  mention,  as  being  of  near  cognation  to 
it,  and  constant  coherence  with  it.  The  first  of  which  is 
pride.  And  the  second,  hard-heartedness,  or  want  of  com 
passion. 

1.  And  first  for  pride.  This  is  of  such  intimate,  and  even 
essential  connection  with  ingratitude,  that  the  actings  of 
ingratitude  seem  directly  resolvable  into  pride,  as  the  princi 
pal  reason  and  cause  of  them.  The  original  ground  of  man's 
obligation  to  gratitude  was,  as  I  have  hinted,  from  this,  that 
each  man  has  but  a  limited  right  to  the  good  things  of  the 
world ;  and  that  the  natural  allowed  way  by  which  he  is  to 
compass  the  possession  of  these  things,  is  by  his  own  indus 
trious  acquisition  of  them ;  and  consequently,  when  any  good 
is  dealt  forth  to  him  any  other  way  than  by  his  own  labor,  he 
is  accountable  to  the  person  who  dealt  it  to  him,  as  for  a 
thing  to  which  he  had  no  right  or  claim,  by  any  action  of  his 
own  entitling  him  to  it. 

But  now  pride  shuts  a  man's  eyes  against  all  this,  and  so 
fills  him  with  an  opinion  of  his  own  transcendent  worth,  that 
he  imagines  himself  to  have  a  right  to  all  things,  as  well 
those  that  are  the  effects  and  fruits  of  other  men's  labors,  as 
of  his  own.  So  that,  if  any  advantage  accrues  to  him  by 
the  liberality  and  donation  of  his  neighbor,  he  looks  not  upon 
it  as  matter  of  free  undeserved  gift,  but  rather  as  a  just 
homage  to  that  worth  and  merit  which  he  conceives  to  be  in 
himself,  and  to  which  all  the  world  ought  to  become  tributary. 
Upon  which  thought,  no  wonder  if  he  reckons  himself  wholly 
unconcerned  to  acknowledge  or  repay  any  good  that  he 
receives.  For  while  the  courteous  person  thinks  that  he  is 
obliging  and  doing  such  an  one  a  kindness,  the  proud  person, 


JUDGES  viii.  34, 35.]     Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  223 

on  the  other  side,  accounts  him  to  he  only  paying  a  deht. 
His  pride  makes  him  even  worship  and  idolize  himself;  and 
indeed  every  proud,  ungrateful  man  has  this  property  of  an 
idol,  that  though  he  is  plied  with  never  so  many  and  so  great 
offerings,  yet  he  takes  no  notice  of  the  offerer  at  all. 

Now  this  is  the  true  account  of  the  most  inward  movings 
and  reasonings  of  the  very  heart  and  soul  of  an  ungrateful 
person.  So  that  you  may  rest  upon  this  as  a  proposition  of 
an  eternal,  unfailing  truth;  that  there  neither  is  nor  ever 
was  any  person  remarkably  ungrateful,  who  was  not  also 
insufferably  proud ;  nor,  convertibly,  any  one  proud,  who  was 
not  equally  ungrateful.  For,  as  snakes  breed  in  dunghills 
not  singly,  but  in  knots,  so  in  such  base,  noisome  hearts  you 
shall  ever  see  pride  and  ingratitude  indivisibly  wreathed  and 
twisted  together.  Ingratitude  overlooks  all  kindnesses,  but 
it  is  because  pride  makes  it  carry  its  head  so  high. 

See  the  greatest  examples  of  ingratitude  equally  notorious 
for  their  pride  and  ambition.  And  to  begin  with  the  top 
and  father  of  them  all,  the  devil  himself.  That  excellent  and 
glorious  nature  which  God  had  obliged  him  with  could  not 
prevent  his  ingratitude  and  apostasy,  when  his  pride  bid  him 
aspire  to  an  equality  with  his  maker,  and  say,  I  will  ascend, 
and  be  like  the  Most  High.  And  did  not  our  first  parents 
write  exactly  after  his  copy?  ingratitude  making  them  to 
trample  upon  the  command,  because  pride  made  them  desire 
to  be  as  gods,  and  to  brave  omniscience  itself  in  the  knowl 
edge  of  good  and  evil.  What  made  that  ungrateful  wretch, 
Absalom,  kick  at  all  the  kindnesses  of  his  indulgent  father, 
but  because  his  ambition  would  needs  be  fingering  the  scep 
tre,  and  hoisting  him  into  his  father's  throne  ?  And  in  the 
courts  of  princes,  is  there  any  thing  more  usual  than  to  see 
those  that  have  been  raised  by  the  favor  and  interest  of  some 
great  minister,  to  trample  upon  the  steps  by  which  they  rose, 
to  rival  him  in  his  greatness,  and  at  length  (if  possible)  to 
step  into  his  place  ? 

In  a  word,  ingratitude  is  too  base  to  return  a  kindness,  and 
too  proud  to  regard  it ;  much  like  the  tops  of  mountains, 
barren  indeed,  but  yet  lofty  ;  they  produce  nothing,  they  feed 
nobody,  they  clothe  nobody,  yet  are  high  and  stately,  and  look 
down  upon  all  the  world  about  them. 


224  Of  tJie  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  [SERM.  XI. 

2.  The  other  concomitant  of  ingratitude  is  hard-hearted- 
ness,  or  want  of  compassion.  This,  at  first,  may  seem  to  have 
no  great  cognation  with  ingratitude ;  but  upon  a  due  inspec 
tion  into  the  nature  of  that  ill  quality,  it  will  be  found  directly 
to  follow  it,  if  not  also  to  result  from  it. 

For  the  nature  of  ingratitude  being  founded  in  such  a  dis 
position  as  encloses  all  a  man's  concerns  within  himself,  and 
consequently  gives  him  a  perfect  unconcernedness  in  all 
things  not  judged  by  him  immediately  to  relate  to  his  own 
interest,  it  is  no  wonder  if  the  same  temper  of  mind  which 
makes  a  man  unapprehensive  of  any  good  done  him  by 
others,  makes  him  equally  unapprehensive  and  insensible  of 
any  evil  or  misery  suffered  by  others.  No  such  thought  ever 
strikes  his  marble,  obdurate  heart,  but  it  presently  flies  off 
and  rebounds  from  it.  And  the  truth  is,  it  is  impossible  for 
a  man  to  be  perfect  and  thorough-paced  in  ingratitude,  till  he 
has  shook  off  all  fetters  of  pity  and  compassion.  For  all  re 
lenting  and  tenderness  of  heart  makes  a  man  but  a  puny  in 
this  sin ;  it  spoils  the  growth,  and  cramps  the  last  and  crown 
ing  exploits  of  this  vice. 

Ingratitude,  indeed,  put  the  poniard  into  Brutus's  hand ; 
but  it  was  want  of  compassion  which  thrust  it  into  Caesar's 
heart.  When  some  fond,  easy  fathers  think  fit  to  strip  them 
selves  before  they  lie  down  to  their  long  sleep,  and  to  settle 
their  whole  estates  upon  their  sons,  has  it  not  been  too 
frequently  seen,  that  the  father  has  been  requited  with  want 
and  beggary,  scorn  and  contempt?  But  now,  could  bare 
ingratitude,  think  we,  ever  have  made  any  one  so  unnatural 
and  diabolical,  had  not  cruelty  and  want  of  pity  come  in  as 
a  second  to  its  assistance,  and  cleared  the  villain's  breast  of 
all  remainders  of  humanity  ?  Is  it  not  this  which  has  made 
so  many  miserable  parents  even  curse  their  own  bowels,  for 
bringing  forth  children  that  seem  to  have  none?  Did  not 
this  make  Agrippina,  Nero's  mother,  cry  out  to  the  assas 
sinate  sent  by  her  son  to  murder  her,  to  direct  his  sword 
to  her  belly,  as  being  the  only  criminal  for  having  brought 
forth  such  a  monster  of  ingratitude  into  the  world  ?  And  to 
give  you  yet  a  higher  instance  of  the  conjunction  of  these 
two  vices ;  since  nothing  could  transcend  the  ingratitude  and 
cruelty  of  Nero,  but  the  ingratitude  and  cruelty  of  an  im- 


JUDGES  viii.  34,  35.]    Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  225 

perious  woman;  when  Tullia,  daughter  of  Servius  Tullius, 
sixth  king  of  Rome,  having  married  Tarquinius  Superbus, 
and  put  him  first  upon  killing  her  father,  and  then  invading 
his  throne,  came  through  the  street  where  the  body  of  her 
father  lay  newly  murdered  and  wallowing  in  his  blood,  she 
commanded  her  trembling  coachman  to  drive  her  chariot  and 
horses  over  the  body  of  her  king  and  father  triumphantly,  in 
the  face  of  all  Rome  looking  upon  her  with  astonishment  and 
detestation.  Such  was  the  tenderness,  gratitude,  filial  affec 
tion,  and  good-nature  of  this  weaker  vessel. 

And  then  for  instances  out  of  sacred  story  ;  to  go  no  further 
than  this  of  Gideon ;  did  not  ingratitude  first  make  the  Is 
raelites  forget  the  kindness  of  the  father,  and  then  cruelty 
make  them  imbrue  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  his  sons? 
Could  Pharaoh's  butler  so  quickly  have  forgot  Joseph,  had 
not  want  of  gratitude  to  him  as  his  friend  met  with  an  equal 
want  of  compassion  to  him  as  his  fellow-prisoner  ?  A  poor, 
innocent,  forlorn  stranger  languishing  in  durance,  upon  the 
false  accusations  of  a  lying,  insolent,  whorish  woman  ! 

I  might  even  weary  you  with  examples  of  the  like  nature, 
both  sacred  and  civil,  all  of  them  representing  ingratitude,  as 
it  were,  sitting  in  its  throne,  with  pride  at^ts  right  hand  and 
cruelty  at  its  left ;  worthy  supporters  of  such  a  stately  quality, 
such  a  reigning  impiety. 

And  it  has  been  sometimes  observed,  that  persons  signally 
and  eminently  obliged,  yet  missing  of  the  utmost  of  their 
greedy  designs  in  swallowing  both  gifts  and  giver  too,  instead 
of  thanks  for  received  kindnesses,  have  betook  themselves  to 
barbarous  threatenings  for  defeat  of  their  insatiable  expecta 
tions. 

Upon  the  whole  matter  we  may  firmly  conclude,  that  in 
gratitude  and  compassion  never  cohabit  in  the  same  breast. 
Which  remark  I  do  here  so  much  insist  upon,  to  show  the 
superlative  malignity  of  this  vice,  and  the  baseness  of  the 
mind  in  which  it  dwells ;  for  we  may  with  great  confidence 
and  equal  truth  affirm,  that  since  there  was  such  a  thing  as 
mankind  in  the  world,  there  never  was  any  heart  truly  great 
and  generous,  that  was  not  also  tender  and  compassionate. 
It  is  this  noble  quality  that  makes  all  men  to  be  of  one  kind ; 

VOL.  I.  15 


226  Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  [SERM.  XL 

for  every  man  would  be,  as  it  were,  a  distinct  species  to  him 
self,  were  there  no  sympathy  amongst  individuals. 

And  thus  I  have  done  with  the  fourth  thing  proposed,  and 
shown  the  two  vices  that  inseparably  attend  ingratitude; 
and  now,  if  falsehood  also  should  chance  to  strike  in  as  the 
third,  and  make  up  the  triumvirate  of  its  attendants,  so  that 
ingratitude,  pride,  cruelty,  and  falsehood  should  all  meet  to 
gether,  and  join  forces  in  the  same  person  ;  as  not  only  very 
often,  but  for  the  most  part  they  do  ;  in  this  case,  if  the  devils 
themselves  should  take  bodies,  and  come  and  live  amongst 
us,  they  could  not  be  greater  plagues  and  grievances  to  soci 
ety  than  such  persons. 

From  what  has  been  said,  let  no  man  ever  think  to  meet 
ingratitude  single  and  alone.  It  is  one  of  those  grapes  of 
gall  mentioned  by  Moses,  Dent,  xxxii.  32,  and  therefore 
expect  always  to  find  it  one  of  a  cluster.  I  proceed  now  to 
the 

Fifth  and  last  thing  proposed,  which  is,  to  draw  some  use 
ful  consequences,  by  way  of  application,  from  the  premises. 
As, — 

1.  Never  enter  into  a  league  of  friendship  with  an  ungrate 
ful  person.  That  is,  plant  not  thy  friendship  upon  a  dunghill. 
It  is  too  noble  a  plant  for  so  base  a  soil. 

Friendship  consists  properly  in  mutual  offices,  and  a  gen 
erous  strife  in  alternate  acts  of  kindness.  But  he  who  does 
a  kindness  to  an  ungrateful  person,  sets  his  seal  to  a  flint, 
and  sows  his  seed  upon  the  sand  :  upon  the  former  he  makes 
no  impression,  and  from  the  latter  he  finds  no  production. 

The  only  voice  of  ingratitude  is,  Give,  give ;  but  when  the 
gift  is  once  received,  then,  like  the  swine  at  his  trough,  it  is 
silent  and  insatiable.  In  a  word,  the  ungrateful  person  is  a 
monster  which  is  all  throat  and  belly ;  a  kind  of  thorough 
fare,  or  common-shore,  for  the  good  things  of  the  world  to 
pass  into  ;  and  of  whom,  in  respect  of  all  kindnesses  conferred 
on  him,  may  be  verified  that  observation  of  the  lion's  den ; 
before  which  appeared  the  footsteps  of  many  that  had  gone  in 
thither,  but  no  prints  of  any  that  ever  came  out  thence. 
The  ungrateful  person  is  the  only  thing  in  nature  for  which 
nobody  living  is  the  better.  He  lives  to  himself,  and  subsists 
by  the  good-nature  of  others,  of  which  he  himself  has  not 


JUDGES  viii.  34, 35.]     Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  227 

the  least  grain.  He  is  a  mere  encroachment  upon  society, 
and,  consequently,  ought  to  be  thrust  out  of  the  world  as  a 
pest,  and  a  prodigy,  and  a  creature  of  the  devil's  making,  and 
not  of  God's. 

2.  As  a  man  tolerably  discreet  ought  by  no  means  to  at 
tempt  the  making  of  such  an  one  his  friend,  so  neither  is  he, 
in  the  next  place,  to  presume  to  think  that  he  shall  be  able 
so  much  as  to  alter  or  meliorate  the  humor  of  an  ungrateful 
person  by  any  acts  of  kindness,  though  never  so  frequent, 
never  so  obliging. 

Philosophy  will  teach  the  learned,  and  experience  may 
teach  all,  that  it  is  a  thing  hardly  feasible.  For  love  such  an 
one,  and  he  shall  despise  you :  commend  him,  and,  as  occa 
sion  serves,  he  shall  revile  you  :  give  to  him,  and  he  shall  but 
laugh  at  your  easiness :  save  his  life ;  but  when  you  have 
done,  look  to  your  own. 

The  greatest  favors  to  such  an  one  are  but  like  the  motion 
of  a  ship  upon  the  waves ;  they  leave  no  trace,  no  sign  behind 
them ;  they  neither  soften  nor  win  upon  him ;  they  neither 
melt  nor  endear  him,  but  leave  him  as  hard,  as  rugged,  and 
as  unconcerned  as  ever.  All  kindnesses  descend  upon  such  a 
temper  as  showers  of  rain  or  rivers  of  fresh  water  falling 
into  the  main  sea :  the  sea  swallows  them  all,  but  is  not  at 
all  changed  or  sweetened  by  them.  I  may  truly  say  of  the 
mind  of  an  ungrateful  person,  that  it  is  kindness-proof.  It 
is  impenetrable,  unconquerable  ;  unconquerable  by  that  which 
conquers  all  things  else,  even  by  love  itself.  Flints  may  be 
melted,  (we  see  it  daily,)  but  an  ungrateful  heart  can  not ; 
no,  not  by  the  strongest  and  the  noblest  flame.  After  all 
your  attempts,  all  your  experiments,  for  any  thing  that  man 
can  do,  he  that  is  ungrateful  will  be  ungrateful  still.  And 
the  reason  is  manifest;  for  you  may  remember  that  I  told 
you  that  ingratitude  sprang  from  a  principle  of  ill  nature ; 
which  being  a  thing  founded  in  such  a  certain  constitution  of 
blood  and  spirit,  as  being  born  with  a  man  into  the  world, 
and  upon  that  account  called  nature,  shall  prevent  all  remedies 
that  can  be  applied  by  education,  and  leaves  such  a  bias  upon 
the  mind  as  is  beforehand  with  all  instruction. 

So  that  you  shall  seldom  or  never  meet  with  an  ungrateful 
person,  but  if  you  look  backward,  and  trace  him  up  to  his 


228  Of  the  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  [SERM.  XL 

original,  you  will  find  that  he  was  born  so  ;  and  if  you  could 
look  forward  enough,  it  is  a  thousand  to  one  hut  you  will 
find  that  he  also  dies  so ;  for  you  shall  never  light  upon  an 
ill-natured  man,  who  was  not  also  an  ill-natured  child ;  and 
gave  several  testimonies  of  his  being  so,  to  discerning  persons, 
long  before  the  use  of  his  reason. 

The  thread  that  nature  spins  is  seldom  broken  off  by  any 
thing  but  death.  I  do  not  by  this  limit  the  operation  of 
God's  grace ;  for  that  may  do  wonders :  but  humanly  speak 
ing,  and  according  to  the  method  of  the  world,  and  the  little 
correctives  supplied  by  art  and  discipline,  it  seldom  fails ;  but 
an  ill  principle  has  its  course,  and  nature  makes  good  its 
blow.  And  therefore  where  ingratitude  begins  remarkably 
to  show  itself,  he  surely  judges  most  wisely  who  takes  the 
alarm  betimes;  and  arguing  the  fountain  from  the  stream, 
concludes  that  there  is  ill-nature  at  the  bottom ;  and  so  re 
ducing  his  judgment  into  practice,  timely  withdraws  his  frus- 
traneous,  baffled  kindnesses,  and  sees  the  folly  of  endeavoring 
to  stroke  a  tiger  into  a  lamb,  or  to  court  an  Ethiopian  out  of 
his  color. 

3.  In  the  third  and  last  place.  Wheresoever  you  see  a 
man  notoriously  ungrateful,  rest  assured  that  there  is  no 
true  sense  of  religion  in  that  person.  You  know  the  apostle's 
argument,  in  1  John  iv.  20.  He  who  loveth  not  his  brother 
whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God  wlwm  lie  hath  not  seen  ? 
So,  by  an  exact  parity  of  reason,  we  may  argue :  If  a  man 
has  no  sense  of  those  kindnesses  that  pass  upon  him  from 
one  like  himself,  whom  he  sees,  and  knows,  and  converses 
with  sensibly ;  how  much  less  shall  his  heart  be  affected  with 
the  grateful  sense  of  his  favors  whom  he  converses  with 
only  by  imperfect  speculations,  by  the  discourses  of  reason, 
or  the  discoveries  of  faith ;  neither  of  which  equal  the  quick 
and  lively  impressions  of  sense  ?  If  the  apostle's  reasoning 
was  good  and  concluding,  I  am  sure  this  must  be  unavoidable. 

But  the  thing  is  too  evident  to  need  any  proof.  For  shall 
that  man  pass  for  a  proficient  in  Christ's  school,  who  would 
have  been  exploded  in  the  school  of  Zeno  or  Epictetus  ?  Or 
shall  he  pretend  to  religious  attainments,  who  is  defective 
and  short  in  moral  ?  which  yet  are  but  the  rudiments,  the 
beginnings,  and  first  draught  of  religion,  as  religion  is  the 


JUDGES  viii.  34, 35.]      Of  ihe  odious  Sin  of  Ingratitude.  229 

perfection,  the  refinement,  and  the  sublimation  of  morality ; 
so  that  it  still  presupposes  it,  it  builds  upon  it,  and  grace 
never  adds  the  superstructure,  where  virtue  has  not  laid  the 
foundation.  There  may  be  virtue  indeed,  and  yet  no  grace ; 
but  grace  is  never  without  virtue  :  and  therefore,  though 
gratitude  does  not  infer  grace,  it  is  certain  that  ingratitude 
does  exclude  it. 

Think  not  to  put  God  off  by  frequenting  prayers,  and  ser 
mons,  and  sacraments,  while  thy  brother  has  an  action  against 
thee  in  the  court  of  heaven ;  an  action  of  debt,  of  that  clam 
orous  and  great  debt  of  gratitude.  Rather,  as  our  Saviour 
commands,  leave  thy  gift  upon  the  altar,  and  first  go  and  clear 
accounts  with  thy  brother.  God  scorns  a  gift  from  him  who 
has  not  paid  his  debts.  Every  ungrateful  person,  in  the  sight 
of  God  and  man,  is  a  thief,  and  let  him  not  make  the  altar 
his  receiver.  Where  there  is  no  charity,  it  is  certain  there 
can  be  no  religion ;  and  can  that  man  be  charitable  who  is 
not  so  much  as  just  ? 

In  every  benefaction  between  man  and  man,  man  is  only 
the  dispenser,  but  God  the  benefactor ;  and  therefore  let  all 
ungrateful  ones  know,  that  where  gratitude  is  the  debt,  God 
himself  is  the  chief  creditor :  who,  though  he  causes  his  sun 
to  shine,  and  his  rain  to  fall  upon  the  evil  and  unthankful  in 
this  world,  has  another  kind  of  reward  for  their  unthankful- 
ness  in  the  next. 

To  which  God,  the  great  searcher  and  judge  of  hearts,  and 
rewarder  of  men  according  to  their  deeds,  be  rendered  and 
ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise,  might,  majesty,  and  do 
minion,  both  now  and  for  evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  XII. 


A    SERMON   PREACHED    AT   CHRIST    CHURCH,    OXON, 
BEFORE   THE   UNIVERSITY,    OCTOBER  14,  1688. 


PROV.  xii.  22.  —  Lying  lips  are  abomination  to  the  Lord. 

I  AM  very  sensible,  that  by  discoursing  of  lies  and  false 
hood,  which  I  have  pitched  upon  for  my  present  subject, 
I  must  needs  fall  into  a  very  large  commonplace;  though 
yet,  not  by  half  so  large  and  common  as  the  practice :  nothing 
in  nature  being  so  universally  decried,  and  withal  so  univer 
sally  practiced,  as  falsehood.  So  that  most  of  those  things 
that  have  the  mightiest  and  most  controlling  influence  upon 
the  affairs  and  course  of  the  world,  are  neither  better  nor 
worse  than  downright  lies.  For  what  is  common  fame,  which 
sounds  from  all  quarters  of  the  world,  and  resounds  back  to 
them  again,  but  generally  a  loud,  rattling,  impudent,  over 
bearing  lie  ?  What  are  most  of  the  histories  of  the  world, 
but  lies  ?  lies  immortalized,  and  consigned  over  as  a  perpet 
ual  abuse  and  flam  upon  posterity  ?  What  are  most  of  the 
promises  of  the  world,  but  lies  ?  of  which  we  need  no  other 
proof  but  our  own  experience.  And  what  are  most  of  the 
oaths  in  the  world,  but  lies  ?  and  such  as  need  rather  a  par 
don  for  being  took,  than  a  dispensation  from  being  kept? 
And  lastly,  what  are  all  the  religions  of  the  world,  except 
Judaism  and  Christianity,  but  lies  ?  And  even  in  Christianity 
itself,  are  there  not  those  who  teach,  warrant,  and  defend 
lying  ?  and  scarce  use  the  Bible  for  any  other  purpose  but  to 
swear  upon  it,  and  to  lie  against  it  ? 

Thus  a  mighty,  governing  lie  goes  round  the  world,  and 
has  almost  banished  truth  out  of  it;  and  so  reigning  tri 
umphantly  in  its  stead,  is  the  true  source  of  most  of  those 


PROV.  xii.  22.]    Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.         231 

confusions  and  dire  calamities  that  infest  and  plague  the  uni 
verse.  For  look  over  them  all,  and  you  shall  find  that  the 
greatest  annoyance  and  disturbance  of  mankind  has  been 
from  one  of  these  two  things,  force  or  fraud.  Of  which,  as 
boisterous  and  violent  a  thing  as  force  is,  yet  it  rarely 
achieves  any  thing  considerable,  but  under  the  conduct  of 
fraud.  Sleight  of  hand  has  done  that  which  force  of  hand 
could  never  do. 

But  why  do  we  speak  of  hands  ?  It  is  the  tongue  that 
drives  the  world  before  it.  The  tongue,  and  the  lying  lip, 
which  there  is  no  fence  against :  for  when  that  is  the  weapon, 
a  man  may  strike  where  he  can  not  reach ;  and  a  word  shall 
do  execution  both  further  and  deeper  than  the  mightiest 
blow.  For  the  hand  can  hardly  lift  up  itself  high  enough  to 
strike,  but  it  must  be  seen  ;  so  that  it  warns  while  it  threat 
ens  ;  but  a  false,  insidious  tongue  may  whisper  a  lie  so  close 
and  low,  that  though  you  have  ears  to  hear,  yet  you  shall  not 
hear  ;  and  indeed  we  generally  come  to  know  it,  not  by  hear 
ing,  but  by  feeling  what  it  says. 

A  man,  perhaps,  casts  his  eye  this  way  and  that  way,  and 
looks  round  about  him,  to  spy  out  his  enemy,  and  to  defend 
himself;  but  alas!  the  fatal  mischief  that  would  trip  up  his 
heels  is  all  the  while  under  them.  It  works  invisibly,  and 
beneath  :  and  the  shocks  of  an  earthquake,  we  know,  are 
much  more  dreadful  than  the  highest  and  loudest  blusters  of 
a  storm.  For  there  may  be  some  shelter  against  the  violence 
of  the  one,  but  no  security  against  the  hollo wness  of  the 
other ;  which  never  opens  its  bosom,  but  for  a  killing  em 
brace.  The  bowels  of  the  earth  in  such  cases,  and  the  mer 
cies  of  the  false  in  all,  being  equally  without  compassion. 

Upon  the  whole  matter,  it  is  hard  to  assign  any  one  thing 
but  lying,  which  God  and  man  so  unanimously  join  in  the 
hatred  of;  and  it  is  as  hard  to  tell  whether  it  does  a  greater 
dishonor  to  God,  or  mischief  to  man  :  it  is  certainly  an  abom 
ination  to  both ;  and  I  hope  to  make  it  appear  such  in  the 
following  discourse.  Though  I  must  confess  myself  very  un 
able  to  speak  to  the  utmost  latitude  of  this  subject;  and  I 
thank  God  that  I  am  so. 

Now  the  words  of  the  text  are  a  plain,  entire,  categorical 
proposition ;  and  therefore  I  shall  not  go  about  to  darken 


232  Of  tJie  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.     [SERM.  xn. 

them  by  any  needless  explication,  but  shall  immediately  cast 
the  prosecution  of  them  under  these  three  following  particu 
lars.  As, 

I.  I  shall  inquire  into  the  nature  of  a  lie,  and  the  proper 
essential  malignity  of  all  falsehood. 

II.  I  shall  show  the  pernicious  effects  of  it.     And, 

III.  and  lastly,  I  shall  lay  before  you  the  rewards  and  pun 
ishments  that  will  certainly  attend,  or  at  least  follow  it. 

Every  one  of  which,  I  suppose,  and  much  more  all  of  them 
together,  will  afford  arguments  more  than  sufficient,  to  prove, 
(though  it  were  no  part  of  holy  scripture,)  that  lying  lips  are 
an  abomination  to  the  Lord. 

And  first,  for  the  first  of  these. 

I.  What  a  lie  is,  and  wherein  the  nature  of  it  does  consist. 
A  lie  is  properly  an  outward  signification  of  something  con 
trary  to,  or,  at  least,  beside  the  inward  sense  of  the  mind ; 
so  that  when  one  thing  is  signified  or  expressed,  and  the  same 
thing  not  meant  or  intended,  that  is  properly  a  lie. 

And  forasmuch  as  God  has  endued  man  with  a  power  or 
faculty  to  institute  or  appoint  signs  of  his  thoughts ;  and 
that,  by  virtue  hereof,  he  can  appoint,  not  only  words,  but 
also  things,  actions,  and  gestures  to  be  signs  of  the  inward 
thoughts  and  conceptions  of  his  mind,  it  is  evident  that  he 
may  as  really  lie  and  deceive  by  actions  and  gestures,  as  he 
can  by  words  ;  forasmuch  as,  in  the  nature  of  them,  they  are 
as  capable  of  being  made  signs,  and  consequently  of  being 
as  much  abused  and  misapplied  as  the  other:  though,  for 
distinction  sake,  a  deceiving  by  words  is  commonly  called  a 
lie,  and  a  deceiving  by  actions,  gestures,  or  behavior,  is  called 
simulation,  or  hypocrisy. 

The  nature  of  a  lie,  therefore,  consists  in  this,  that  it  is  a 
false  signification  knowingly  and  voluntarily  used ;  in  which 
the  sign  expressing  is  noways  agreeing  with  the  thought  or 
conception  of  the  mind  pretended  to  be  thereby  expressed. 
For  words  signify  not  immediately  and  primely  things  them 
selves,  but  the  conceptions  of  the  mind  concerning  things ; 
and  therefore,  if  there  be  an  agreement  between  our  words 
and  our  thoughts,  we  do  not  speak  falsely,  though  it  some 
times  so  falls  out  that  our  words  agree  not  with  the  things 
themselves :  upon  which  account,  though  in  so  speaking  we 


.  xii.  22.]    Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.        233 

offend  indeed  against  truth,  yet  we  offend  not  properly  by 
falsehood,  which  is  a  speaking-  against  our  thoughts ;  but  by 
rashness,  which  is  an  affirming  or  denying,  before  we  have 
sufficiently  informed  ourselves  of  the  real  and  true  estate  of 
those  things  whereof  we  affirm  or  deny. 

And  thus  having  shown  what  a  lie  is,  and  wherein  it  does 
consist,  the  next  consideration  is,  of  the  lawfulness  or  unlaw 
fulness  of  it.  And  in  this  we  have  but  too  sad  and  scan 
dalous  an  instance,  both  of  the  corruption  and  weakness  of 
man's  reason,  and  of  the  strange  bias  that  it  still  receives 
from  interest,  that  such  a  case  as  this,  both  with  philosophers 
and  divines,  heathens  and  Christians,  should  be  held  dispu 
table. 

Plato  accounted  it  lawful  for  statesmen  and  governors ; 
and  so  did  Cicero  and  Plutarch ;  and  the  Stoics,  as  some  say, 
reckoned  it  amongst  the  arts  and  perfections  of  a  wise  man, 
to  lie  dexterously,  in  due  time  and  place.  And  for  some  of 
the  ancient  doctors  of  the  Christian  church ;  such  as  Origen, 
Clemens  Alexandrinus,  Tertullian,  Lactantius,  and  Chrysos- 
tom  ;  and  generally,  all  before  St.  Austin,  several  passages 
have  fallen  from  them,  that  speak  but  too  favorably  of  this 
ill  thing.  So  that  Paul  Layman,  a  Romish  casuist,  says,  that 
it  is  a  truth  but  lately  known  and  received  in  the  world,  that 
a  lie  is  absolutely  sinful  and  unlawful ;  I  suppose  he  means 
that  part  of  the  world  where  the  scriptures  are  not  read,  and 
where  men  care  not  to  know  what  they  are  not  willing  to 
practice. 

But  then,  for  the  mitigation  of  what  has  proceeded  from 
these  great  men,  we  must  take  in  that  known  and  celebrated 
division  of  a  lie  into  those  three  several  kinds  of  it.  As, 

1.  The  pernicious  lie,  uttered  for  the  hurt  or  disadvantage 
of  our  neighbor. 

2.  The  officious  lie,  uttered  for  our  own  or  our  neighbor's 
advantage :  and 

3.  lastly,  The  ludicrous  and  jocose  lie,  uttered  by  way  of 
jest,  and  only  for  mirth's  sake,  in  common  converse.     Now 
for  the  first  of  these,  which  is  the  pernicious  lie  ;  it  was  and 
is   universally  condemned  by  all ;    but  the  other   two  have 
found   some  patronage  from  the  writings  of  those  foremen- 
tioued  authors.     The  reason  of  which  seems  to  be,  that  those 


234         Of  tlie  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.      [SERM.XII. 

persons  did  not  estimate  the  lawfulness  or  unlawfulness  of  a 
lie,  from  the  intrinsic  nature  of  the  thing  itself,  but  either 
from  those  external  effects  that  it  produced,  or  from  those 
ends  to  which  it  was  directed;  which  accordingly  as  they 
proved  either  helpful  or  hurtful,  innocent  or  offensive,  so  the 
lie  was  reputed  either  lawful  or  unlawful.  And  therefore, 
since  a  man  was  helped  by  an  officious  lie,  and  not  hurt  by  a 
jocose,  both  of  these  came  to  be  esteemed  lawful,  and  in  some 
cases  laudable. 

But  the  schoolmen  and  casuists  having  too  much  philoso 
phy  to  go  about  to  clear  a  lie  from  that  intrinsic  inordination 
and  deviation  from  right  reason  inherent  in  the  nature  of  it, 
and  yet  withal  unwilling  to  rob  the  world,  and  themselves  es 
pecially,  of  so  sweet  a  morsel  of  liberty,  held  that  a  lie  was 
indeed  absolutely  and  universally  sinful ;  but  then  they  held 
also,  that  only  the  pernicious  lie  was  a  mortal  sin,  and  the 
other  two  were  only  venial.  It  can  be  no  part  of  my  busi 
ness  here  to  overthrow  this  distinction,  and  to  show  the  nul 
lity  of  it :  which  has  been  solidly  and  sufficiently  done  by 
most  of  our  polemic  writers  of  the  protestant  church.  But 
at  present  I  shall  only  take  this  their  concession,  that  every 
lie  is  sinful,  and  consequently  unlawful;  and  if  it  be  a  sin,  I 
shall  suppose  it  already  proved  to  my  hands  to  be,  what  all 
sin  essentially  is  and  must  be,  mortal.  So  that  thus  far  have 
we  gone,  and  this  point  have  we  gained,  that  it  is  absolutely 
and  universally  unlawful  to  lie,  or  to  falsify. 

Let  us  now,  in  the  next  place,  inquire  from  whence  this 
unlawfulness  springs,  and  upon  what  it  is  grounded :  to  which 
I  answer ;  that  upon  the  principles  of  natural  reason,  the  un 
lawfulness  of  lying  is  grounded  upon  this,  that  a  lie  is  prop 
erly  a  sort  or  species  of  injustice,  and  a  violation  of  the  right 
of  that  person  to  whom  the  false  speech  is  directed  :  for  all 
speaking,  or  signification  of  one's  mind,  implies,  in  the  na 
ture  of  it,  an  act  or  address  of  one  man  to  another  :  it  being 
evident  that  no  man,  though  he  does  speak  false,  can  be  said 
to  lie  to  himself. 

Now  to  show  what  this  right  is,  we  must  know,  that  in  the 
beginnings  and  first  establishments  of  speech  there  was  an 
implicit  compact  amongst  men,  founded  upon  common  use 
and  consent,  that  such  and  such  words  or  voices,  actions  or 


PROV.  xii.  22.]     Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.        235 

gestures,  should  be  means  or  signs,  whereby  they  would  ex 
press  or  convey  their  thoughts  one  to  another ;  and  that  men 
should  be  obliged  to  use  them  for  that  purpose ;  forasmuch 
as,  without  such  an  obligation,  those  signs  could  not  be  effect 
ual  for  such  an  end.  From  which  compact  there  arising  an 
obligation  upon  every  one  so  to  convey  his  meaning,  there 
accrues  also  a  right  to  every  one,  by  the  same  signs  to  judge 
of  the  sense  or  meaning  of  the  person  so  obliged  to  express 
himself:  and  consequently,  if  these  signs  are  applied  and 
used  by  him  so  as  not  to  signify  his  meaning,  the  right  of  the 
person  to  whom  he  was  obliged  so  to  have  done,  is  hereby 
violated,  and  the  man,  by  being  deceived  and  kept  ignorant 
of  his  neighbor's  meaning,  where  he  ought  to  have  known  it, 
is  so  far  deprived  of  the  benefit  of  any  intercourse  or  converse 
with  him. 

From  hence  therefore  we  see,  that  the  original  reason  of 
the  unlawfulness  of  lying  or  deceiving  is,  that  it  carries  with 
it  an  act  of  injustice,  and  a  violation  of  the  right  of  him  to 
whom  we  were  obliged  to  signify  or  impart  our  minds,  if  we 
spoke  to  him  at  all. 

But  then  we  must  observe  also,  (which  I  noted  at  first,) 
that  as  it  is  in  man's  power  to  institute,  not  only  words,  but 
also  things,  actions,  or  gestures,  to  be  the  means  whereby  he 
would  signify  and  express  his  mind,  so,  on  the  other  side, 
those  voices,  actions,  or  gestures,  which  men  have  not  by  any 
compact  agreed  to  make  the  instruments  of  conveying  their 
thoughts  one  to  another,  are  not  the  proper  instruments  of 
deceiving,  so  as  to  denominate  the  person  using  them  a  liar 
or  deceiver,  though  the  person  to  whom  they  are  addressed 
takes  occasion  from  thence  to  form  in  his  mind  a  false  appre 
hension  or  belief  of  the  thoughts  of  those  who  use  such 
voices,  actions,  or  gestures  towards  him.  I  say,  in  this  case, 
the  person  using  these  things  can  not  be  said  to  deceive; 
since  all  deception  is  a  misapplying  of  those  signs  which  by 
compact  or  institution  were  made  the  means  of  men's  signi 
fying  or  conveying  their  thoughts  ;  but  here,  a  man  only  does 
those  things  from  which  another  takes  occasion  to  deceive 
himself:  which  one  consideration  will  solve  most  of  those 
difficulties  that  are  usually  started  on  this  subject. 

But  yet  this  I  do  and  must  grant,  that  though  it  be  not 


236  Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.    [SERM.  xn. 

against  strict  justice  or  truth  for  a  man  to  do  those  things 
which  he  might  otherwise  lawfully  do,  albeit  his  neighbor 
does  take  occasion  from  thence  to  conceive  in  his  mind  a  false 
belief,  and  so  to  deceive  himself,  yet  Christian  charity  will 
in  many  cases  restrain  a  man  here  too,  and  prohibit  him  to 
use  his  own  right  and  liberty,  where  it  may  turn  considerably 
to  his  neighbor's  prejudice.  For  herein  is  the  excellency  of 
charity  seen,  that  the  charitable  man  not  only  does  no  evil 
himself,  but  that,  to  the  utmost  of  his  power,  he  also  hinders 
any  evil  from  being  done  even  by  another. 

And  as  we  have  shown  and  proved  that  lying  and  deceiving 
stand  condemned,  upon  the  principles  of  natural  justice,  and 
the  eternal  law  of  right  reason,  so  are  the  same  much  more 
condemned,  and  that  with  the  sanction  of  the  highest  penal 
ties,  by  the  law  of  Christianity,  which  is  eminently  and  tran- 
scendently  called  the  truth,  and  the  word  of  truth ;  and  in 
nothing  more  surpasses  all  the  doctrines  and  religions  in  the 
world,  than  in  this,  that  it  enjoins  the  clearest,  the  openest, 
and  the  sincerest  dealing,  both  in  words  and  actions ;  and  is 
the  rigidest  exacter  of  truth  in  all  our  behavior,  of  any  other 
doctrine  or  institution  whatsoever. 

And  thus  much  for  the  first  general  thing  proposed,  which 
was  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  a  lie,  and  the  proper  essen 
tial  malignity  of  all  falsehood.  I  proceed  now  to  the 

Second,  which  is  to  show  the  pernicious  effects  of  it.  Some 
of  the  chief  and  most  remarkable  of  which  are  these  that 
follow :  as, 

First  of  all,  it  was  this  that  introduced  sin  into  the  world. 
For  how  came  our  first  parents  to  sin,  and  to  lose  their  prim 
itive  innocence?  Why,  they  were  deceived,  and  by  the 
subtilty  of  the  devil  brought  to  believe  a  lie.  And,  indeed, 
deceit  is  of  the  very  essence  and  nature  of  sin,  there  being  no 
sinful  action,  but  there  is  a  lie  wrapt  up  in  the  bowels  of  it. 
For  sin  prevails  upon  the  soul  by  representing  that  as  suit 
able  and  desirable  that  really  is  not  so.  And  no  man  is  ever 
induced  to  sin,  but  by  a  persuasion  that  he  shall  find  some 
good  and  happiness  in  it,  which  he  had  not  before.  The 
wages  that  sin  bargains  with  the  sinner  to  serve  it  for,  are 
life,  pleasure,  and  profit ;  but  the  wages  it  pays  him  with  are 
death,  torment,  and  destruction.  He  that  would  understand 


PROV.  xii.  22.]    Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.        237 

the  falsehood  and  deceit  of  sin  throughly,  must  compare  its 
promises  and  its  payments  together. 

And  as  the  devil  first  brought  sin  into  the  world  by  a  lie, 
(being  equally  the  base  original  of  both,)  so  he  still  propa 
gates  and  promotes  it  by  the  same.  The  devil  reigns  over 
none  but  those  whom  he  first  deceives.  Geographers  and 
historians,  dividing  the  habitable  world  into  thirty  parts,  give 
us  this  account  of  them  :  that  but  five  of  those  thirty  are 
Christian;  and  for  the  rest,  six  of  them  are  Jew  and  Ma 
hometan,  and  the  remaining  nineteen  perfectly  heathen :  all 
which  he  holds  and  governs  by  possessing  them  with  a  lie, 
and  bewitching  them  with  a  false  religion :  like  the  moon  and 
the  stars,  he  rules  by  night ;  and  his  kingdom,  even  in  this 
world,  is  perfectly  a  kingdom  of  darkness.  And  therefore 
our  Saviour,  who  came  to  dethrone  the  devil  and  to  destroy 
sin,  did  it  by  being  the  light  of  the  world,  and  by  bearing 
witness  to  the  truth.  For  so  far  as  truth  gets  ground  in  the 
world,  so  far  sin  loses  it.  Christ  saves  the  world,  by  unde 
ceiving  it ;  and  sanctifies  the  will,  by  first  enlightening  the 
understanding. 

2.  A  second  eifect  of  lying  and  falsehood  is  all  that  misery 
and  calamity  that  befalls  mankind.  For  the  proof  of  which 
we  need  go  no  further  than  the  former  consideration  :  for 
sorrow  being  the  natural  and  direct  effect  of  sin,  that  which 
first  brought  sin  into  the  world  must  by  necessary  consequence 
bring  in  sorrow  too.  Shame  and  pain,  poverty  and  sick 
ness,  yea,  death  and  hell  itself,  are  all  of  them  but  the  trophies 
of  those  fatal  conquests,  got  by  that  grand  impostor,  the  devil, 
over  the  deluded  sons  of  men.  And  hardly  can  any  example 
be  produced  of  a  man  in  extreme  misery,  who  was  not  one 
way  or  other  first  deceived  into  it.  For  have  not  the  greatest 
slaughters  of  armies  been  effected  by  stratagem  ?  And  have 
not  the  fairest  estates  been  destroyed  by  suretyship  ?  In 
both  of  which  there  is  a  fallacy,  and  the  man  is  overreached 
before  he  is  overthrown. 

What  betrayed  and  delivered  the  poor  old  prophet  into  the 
lion's  mouth,  1  Kings  xiii.,  but  the  mouth  of  a  false  prophet, 
much  the  crueller  and  more  remorseless  of  the  two  ?  How 
came  John  Huss  and  Jerome  of  Prague  to  be  so  cruelly  and 
basely  used  by  the  council  of  Constance,  those  ecclesiastical 


238          Of  tJie  base  Sins  of  Falselwod  and  Lying.      [SKBM.  xn. 

commissioners  of  the  court  of  Koine  ?  Why,  they  promised 
those  innocent  men  a  safe-conduct,  who  thereupon  took  them 
at  their  word,  and  accordingly  were  burnt  alive,  for  trusting 
a  pack  of  perfidious  wretches,  who  regarded  their  own  word 
as  little  as  they  did  God's.* 

And  how  came  so  many  bonfires  to  be  made  in  Queen 
Mary's  days  ?  Why,  she  had  abused  and  deceived  her  people 
with  lies,  promising  them  the  free  exercise  of  their  religion 
before  she  got  into  the  throne ;  and  when  she  was  once  in, 
she  performed  her  promise  to  them  at  the  stake.  And  I 
know  no  security  we  had  from  seeing  the  same  again  in  our 
days,  but  one  or  two  proclamations  forbidding  bonfires.  Some 
sort  of  promises  are  edged  tools,  and  it  is  dangerous  laying 
hold  on  them. 

But  to  pass  from  hence  to  fanatic  treachery,  that  is,  from 
one  twin  to  the  other ;  how  came  such  multitudes  of  our  own 
nation,  at  the  beginning  of  that  monstrous  (but  still  surviving 
and  successful)  rebellion,  in  the  year  1641,  to  be  spunged  of 
their  plate  and  money,  their  rings  and  jewels,  for  the  carrying 
on  of  the  schismatical,  dissenting,  king-killing  cause  ?  Why, 
next  to  their  own  love  of  being  cheated,  it  was  the  public,  or 
rather  prostitute  faith  of  a  company  of  faithless  miscreants 
that  drew  them  in,  and  deceived  them.  And  how  came  so 
many  thousands  to  fight  and  die  in  the  same  rebellion  ?  Why, 
they  were  deceived  into  it  by  those  spiritual  trumpeters  who 
followed  them  with  continual  alarms  of  damnation,  if  they  did 
not  venture  life,  fortune,  and  all,  in  that  which  wickedly  and 
devilishly  those  impostors  called  the  cause  of  God.  So  that 
I  myself  have  heard  onef  say,  (whose  quarters  have  since 
hung  about  that  city  where  he  had  been  first  deceived,)  that 
he,  with  many  more,  went  to  that  execrable  war  with  such  a 
controlling  horror  upon  their  spirits,  from  those  sermons,]; 
that  they  verily  believed  they  should  have  been  accursed  by 
God  forever,  if  they  had  not  acted  their  part  in  that  dismal 
tragedy,  and  heartily  done  the  devil's  work,  being  so  effect 
ually  called  and  commanded  to  it  in  God's  name. 

*  Of  which  last,  see  an  instance  in  counted  and  observed  as  a  law ;  and 

the  13th  session  of  this  council,  in  which  that,  if  the  priest  should  administer  it 

it  decrees,  with  a  non-obstante  to  Christ's  otherwise,  he  was  to  be  excommuni- 

express  institution  of  the  blessed  eu-  cated. 

charist  in   both  kinds,   that  the   con-  t  Colonel  Axtell. 

trary  custom  and  practice  of  receiving  {  He    particularly  mentioned    those 

it  only  in  one  kind  ought'  to  be  ac-  of  Brooks  and  Calamy. 


PROV.  xii.  22.]    Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.        239 

Infinite  would  it  be  to  pursue  all  instances  of  this  nature  : 
but,  consider  those  grand  agents  and  lieutenants  of  the  devil, 
by  whom  he  scourges  and  plagues  the  world  under  him,  to 
wit,  tyrants ;  and  was  there  ever  any  tyrant  since  the  crea 
tion,  who  was  not  also  false  and  perfidious  ?  Do  not  the 
bloody  and  the  deceitful  man  still  go  hand  in  hand  together, 
in  the  language  of  the  scripture  ?  Psalm  Iv.  23.  Was  ever 
any  people  more  cruel,  and  withal  more  false,  than  the  Car 
thaginians  ?  And  had  not  the  hypocritical  contrivers  of  the 
murder  of  that  blessed  martyr  king  Charles  the  First,  their 
masks  and  vizards,  as  well  as  his  executioners  ? 

No  man  that  designs  to  rob  another  of  his  estate  or  life, 
will  be  so  impudent  or  ignorant,  as  in  plain  terms  to  tell  him 
so.  But  if  it  be  his  estate  that  he  drives  at,  he  will  dazzle 
his  eyes,  and  bait  him  in  with  the  luscious  proposal  of  some 
gainful  purchase,  some  rich  match,  or  advantageous  project ; 
till  the  easy  man  is  caught  and  hampered ;  and  so,  partly  by 
lies,  and  partly  by  lawsuits  together,  comes  at  length  to  be 
stripped  of  all,  and  brought  to  a  piece  of  bread,  when  he  can 
get  it.  Or  if  it  be  a  man's  life  that  the  malice  of  his  enemy 
seeks  after,  he  will  not  presently  clap  his  pistol  to  his  breast, 
or  his  knife  to  his  throat ;  but  will  rather  take  Absalom  for 
his  pattern,  who  invited  his  dear  brother  to  a  feast,  hugged 
and  embraced,  courted  and  caressed  him,  till  he  had  well 
dosed  his  weak  head  with  wine,  and  his  foolish  heart  with 
confidence  and  credulity;  and  then,  in  he  brings  him  an  old 
reckoning,  and  makes  him  pay  it  off  with  his  blood.  Or, 
perhaps,  the  cut-throat  may  rather  take  his  copy  from  the 
Parisian  massacre ;  one  of  the  horridest  instances  of  barbar 
ous  inhumanity  that  ever  the  world  saw,  but  ushered  in  with 
all  the  pretenses  of  amity,  and  the  festival  treats  of  a  recon 
ciling  marriage,  —  a  new  and  excellent  way,  no  doubt,  of  prov 
ing  matrimony  a  sacrament.  But  such  butchers  know  what 
they  have  to  do.  They  must  soothe  and  allure  before  they 
strike ;  and  the  ox  must  be  fed  before  he  is  brought  to  the 
slaughter ;  and  the  same  course  must  be  taken  with  some  sort 
of  asses  too. 

In  a  word,  I  verily  believe  that  no  sad  disaster  ever  yet 
befell  any  person  or  people,  nor  any  villainy  or  flagitious 
action  was  ever  yet  committed,  but,  upon  a  due  inquiry  into 


240  Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.    [SERM.  xn. 

the  causes  of  it,  it  will  be  found  that  a  lie  was  first  or  last 
the  principal  engine  to  effect  it:  and  that,  whether  pride, 
lust,  or  cruelty  brought  it  forth,  it  was  falsehood  that  begot 
it;  this  gave  it  being,  whatsoever  other  vice  might  give  it 
birth. 

3.  As  we  have  seen  how  much  lying  and  falsehood  disturbs, 
so,  in  the  next  place,  we  shall  see  also  how  it  tends  utterly 
to  dissolve  society.  There  is  no  doubt  but  all  the  safety, 
happiness,  and  convenience  that  men  enjoy  in  this  life,  is 
from  the  combination  of  particular  persons  into  societies  or 
corporations :  the  cause  of  which  is  compact ;  and  the  band 
that  knits  together  and  supports  all  compacts  is  truth  and 
faithfulness.  So  that  the  soul  and  spirit  that  animates  and 
keeps  up  society  is  mutual  trust,  and  the  foundation  of  trust 
is  truth,  either  known,  or  at  least  supposed  in  the  person  so 
trusted. 

But  now,  where  fraud  and  falsehood,  like  a  plague  or 
canker,  comes  once  to  invade  society,  the  band,  which  held 
together  the  parts  compounding  it,  presently  breaks;  and 
men  are  thereby  put  to  a  loss  where  to  league  and  to  fasten 
their  dependences ;  and  so  are  forced  to  scatter,  and  shift 
every  one  for  himself.  Upon  which  account,  every  notori 
ously  false  person  ought  to  be  looked  upon  and  detested,  as  a 
public  enemy,  and  to  be  pursued  as  a  wolf  or  a  mad  dog,  and 
a  disturber  of  the  common  peace  and  welfare  of  mankind. 
There  being  no  particular  person  whatsoever  but  has  his  pri 
vate  interest  concerned  and  endangered  in  the  mischief  that 
such  a  wretch  does  to  the  public. 

For  look  into  great  families,  and  you  shall  find  some  one 
false,  paltry  talebearer,  who,  by  carrying  stories  from  one  to 
another,  shall  inflame  the  minds  and  discompose  the  quiet  of 
the  whole  family.  And  from  families  pass  to  towns  or  cities  ; 
and  two  or  three  pragmatical,  intriguing,  meddling  fellows, 
(men  of  business  some  call  them,)  by  the  venom  of  their  false 
tongues,  shall  set  the  whole  neighborhood  together  by  the 
ears.  Where  men  practice  falsehood,  and  show  tricks  with 
one  another,  there  will  be  perpetual  suspicions,  evil  surmis- 
ings,  doubts,  and  jealousies,  which,  by  souring  the  minds  of 
men,  are  the  bane  and  pest  of  society.  For  still  society  is 
built  upon  trust,  and  trust  upon  the  confidence  that  men  have 
of  one  another's  integrity. 


PROV.  xii.  22.]     Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.        241 

And  this  is  so  evident,  that  without  trusting,  there  could 
not  only  be  no  happiness,  but  indeed  no  living  in  this  world. 
For  in  those  very  things  that  minister  to  the  daily  necessi 
ties  of  common  life,  how  can  any  one  be  assured  that  the 
very  meat  and  drink  that  he  is  to  take  into  his  body,  and  the 
clothes  he  is  to  put  on,  are  not  poisoned,  and  made  unwhole 
some  for  him,  before  ever  they  are  brought  to  him.  Nay,  in 
some  places,  (with  horror  be  it  spoke,)  how  can  a  man  be 
secure  in  taking  the  very  sacrament  itself?  For  there  have 
been  those  who  have  found  something  in  this  spiritual  food, 
that  has  proved  very  fatal  to  their  bodies,  and  more  than  pre 
pared  them  for  another  world.  I  say,  how  can  any  one  war 
rant  himself  in  the  use  of  these  things  against  such  sus 
picions,  but  in  the  trust  he  has  in  the  common  honesty  and 
truth  of  men  in  general,  which  ought  and  uses  to  keep  them 
from  such  villainies  ?  Nevertheless,  know  this  certainly  be 
forehand  he  can  not,  forasmuch  as  such  things  have  been 
clone,  and  consequently  may  be  done  again.  And  therefore, 
as  for  any  infallible  assurance  to  the  contrary,  he  can  have 
none ;  but,  in  the  great  concerns  of  life  and  health,  every 
man  must  be  forced  to  proceed  upon  trust,  there  being  no 
knowing  the  intention  of  the  cook  or  baker,  any  more  than 
of  the  priest  himself.  And  yet,  if  a  man  should  forbear  his 
food,  or  raiment,  or  most  of  his  business  in  the  world,  till  he 
had  science  and  certainty  of  the  safeness  of  what  he  was 
going  about,  he  must  starve,  and  die  disputing ;  for  there  is 
neither  eating,  nor  drinking,  nor  living  by  demonstration. 

Now  this  shows  the  high  malignity  of  fraud  and  falsehood, 
that,  in  the  direct  and  natural  course  of  it,  tends  to  the  de 
struction  of  common  life,  by  destroying  that  trust  and  mutual 
confidence  that  men  should  have  in  one  another ;  by  which 
the  common  intercourse  of  the  world  must  be  carried  on,  and 
witliout  which  men  must  first  distrust,  and  then  divide,  sepa 
rate,  and  stand  upon  their  guard,  with  their  hand  against 
every  one,  and  every  one's  hand  against  them. 

The  felicity  of  societies  and  bodies  politic  consists  in  this, 
that  all  relations  in  them  do  regularly  discharge  their  respec 
tive  duties  and  offices.  Such  as  are  the  relation  between 
prince  and  subject,  master  and  servant,  a  man  and  his  friend, 
husband  and  wife,  parent  and  child,  buyer  and  seller,  and  the 

VOL.  I.  16 


242  Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falselwod  and  Lying.     [SEEM.  xil. 

like.  But  now,  where  fraud  and  falsehood  take  place,  there 
is  not  one  of  all  these  that  is  not  perverted,  and  that  does 
not,  from  an  help  of  society,  directly  become  an  hinderance. 
For  first,  it  turns  all  above  us  into  tyranny  and  barbarity ; 
and  all  of  the  same  religion  and  level  with  us  into  discord 
and  confusion.  It  is  this  alone  that  poisons  that  sovereign 
and  divine  thing  called  friendship;  so  that  when  a  man 
thinks  that  he  leans  upon  a  breast  as  loving  and  true  to  him 
as  his  own,  he  finds  that  he  relies  upon  a  broken  reed,  that 
not  only  basely  fails,  but  also  cruelly  pierces  the  hand  that 
rests  upon  it.  It  is  from  this  that  when  a  man  thinks  he 
has  a  servant  or  dependent,  an  instrument  of  his  affairs  and 
a  defense  of  his  person,  he  finds  a  traitor  and  a  Judas,  an 
enemy  that  eats  his  bread  and  lies  nnder  his  roof ;  and  per 
haps  readier  to  do  him  a  mischief  and  a  shrewd  turn  than  an 
open  and  professed  adversary.  And  lastly,  from  this  deceit 
and  falsehood  it  is,  that,  when  a  man  thinks  himself  matched 
to  one  who,  by  the  laws  of  God  and  nature,  should  be  a  com 
fort  to  him  in  all  conditions,  a  consort  of  his  cares,  and  a 
companion  in  all  his  concerns,  instead  thereof,  he  finds  in  his 
bosom  a  beast,  a  serpent,  and  a  devil. 

In  a  word  :  he  that  has  to  do  with  a  liar,  knows  not  where 
he  is,  nor  what  he  does,  nor  with  whom  he  deals.  He  walks 
upon  bogs  and  whirlpools;  wheresoever  he  treads  he  sinks, 
and  converses  with  a  bottomless  pit,  where  it  is  impossible 
for  him  to  fix,  or  to  be  at  any  certainty.  In  fine,  he  catches 
at  an  apple  of  Sodom,  which,  though  it  may  entertain  his  eye 
with  a  florid,  jolly  white  and  red,  yet  upon  the  touch  it  shall 
fill  his  hand  only  with  stench  and  foulness ;  fair  in  look  and 
rotten  at  heart ;  as  the  gayest  and  most  taking  things  and 
persons  in  the  world  generally  are. 

4.  And  lastly :  deceit  and  falsehood  do,  of  all  other  ill 
qualities,  most  peculiarly  indispose  the  hearts  of  men  to  the 
impressions  of  religion.  For  these  are  sins  perfectly  spiritual, 
and  so  prepossess  the  proper  seat  and  place  of  religion,  which 
is  the  soul  or  spirit :  and,  when  that  is  once  filled  and  taken 
up  with  a  lie,  there  will  hardly  be  admission  or  room  for  truth. 
Christianity  is  known  in  scripture  by  no  name  so  significantly 
as  by  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel. 

And  if  so,  does  it  not  look  like  the  greatest  paradox  and 


PROV.  xii.  22.]     Of  ihe  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.        243 

prodigy  in  nature,  for  any  one  to  pretend  it  lawful  to  equivo 
cate  or  lie  for  it  ?  To  face  God  and  outface  man,  with  the 
sacrament  and  a  lie  in  one's  mouth  together  ?  Can  a  good 
intention,  or  rather  a  very  wicked  one,  so  miscalled,  sanctify 
and  transform  perjury  and  hypocrisy  into  merit  and  perfec 
tion  ?  Or  can  there  be  a  greater  blot  cast  upon  any  church 
or  religion  (whatsoever  it  be)  than  by  such  a  practice  ?  For 
will  not  the  world  be  induced  to  look  upon  my  religion  as  a 
lie,  if  I  allow  myself  to  lie  for  my  religion  ? 

The  very  life  and  soul  of  all  religion  is  sincerity.  And 
therefore  the  good  ground,  in  which  alone  the  immortal  seed 
of  the  word  sprang  up  to  perfection,  is  said,  in  St.  Luke  viii. 
15,  to  have  been  those  that  received  it  into  an  honest  Iwart, 
that  is,  a  plain,  clear,  and  well-meaning  heart ;  an  heart  not 
doubled,  nor  cast  into  the  various  folds  and  windings  of  a 
dodging,  shifting  hypocrisy.  For  the  truth  is,  the  more  spir 
itual  and  refined  any  sin  is,  the  more  hardly  is  the  soul  cured 
of  it ;  because  the  more  difficultly  convinced.  And  in  all  our 
spiritual  maladies,  conviction  must  still  begin  the  cure. 

Such  sins  indeed  as  are  acted  by  the  body,  do  quickly  show 
and  proclaim  themselves ;  and  it  is  no  such  hard  matter  to 
convince  or  run  down  a  drunkard,  or  an  unclean  person,  and 
to  stop  their  mouths,  and  to  answer  any  pretenses  that  they 
can  allege  for  their  sin.  But  deceit  is  such  a  sin  as  a  Phar 
isee  may  be  guilty  of,  and  yet  stand  fair  for  the  reputation 
of  zeal  and  strictness,  and  a  more  than  ordinary  exactness  in 
religion.  And  though  some  have  been  apt  to  account  none 
sinful,  or  vicious,  but  such  as  wallow  in  the  mire  and  dirt  of 
gross  sensuality,  yet  no  doubt  deceit,  falsehood,  and  hypocrisy 
are  more  directly  contrary  to  the  very  essence  and  design  of 
religion,  and  carry  in  them  more  of  the  express  image  and 
superscription  of  the  devil,  than  any  bodily  sins  whatsoever. 
How  did  that  false,  fasting,  imperious,  self-admiring,  or 
rather  self-adoring  hypocrite,  in  St.  Luke  xviii.  11,  crow  and 
exult  over  the  poor  publican !  God,  I  ihank  thee,  says  he,  that 
I  am  not  like  other  men;  and  God  forbid,  say  I,  that  there 
should  be  many  others  like  him,  for  a  glistering  outside  and 
a  noisome  inside,  for  tithing  mint  and  cummin,  and  for  de 
vouring  widows'  houses  ;  that  is,  for  taking  ten  parts  from  his 
neighbor,  and  putting  God  off  with  one.  After  all  which, 


244  Of  tlie  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.    [SERM.  xn. 

had  this  man  of  merit  and  mortification  being  called  to  ac 
count  for  his  ungodly  swallow  in  gorging  down  the  estates  of 
helpless  widows  and  orphans,  it  is  odds  but  he  would  have 
told  you  that  it  was  all  for  charitable  uses,  and  to  afford 
pensions  for  spies  and  proselytes.  It  being  no  ordinary  piece 
of  spiritual  good  husbandry  to  be  charitable  at  other  men's 
cost. 

But  such  sons  of  Abraham,  how  highly  soever  they  may 
have  the  luck  to  be  thought  of,  are  far  from  being  Israelites 
indeed ;  for  the  character  that  our  Saviour  gives  us  of  such, 
in  the  person  of  Nathanael,  in  John  i.  47,  is,  that  they  are 
without  guile.  To  be  so,  I  confess,  is  generally  reckoned  (of 
late  times  especially)  a  poor,  mean,  sneaking  thing,  and  the 
contrary,  reputed  wit  and  parts,  and  fitness  for  business,  as 
the  word  is  :  though  I  doubt  not  but  it  will  be  one  day  found 
that  only  honesty  and  integrity  can  fit  a  man  for  the  main 
business  that  he  was  sent  into  the  world  for ;  and  that  he 
certainly  is  the  greatest  wit  who  is  wise  to  salvation. 

And  thus  much  for  the  second  general  thing  proposed, 
which  was  to  show  the  pernicious  effects  of  lying  and  false 
hood.  Come  we  now  to  the 

Third  and  last,  which  is  to  lay  before  you  the  rewards  or 
punishments  that  will  assuredly  attend,  or  at  least  follow,  this 
base  practice. 

I  shall  mention  three :  as, 

1.  An  utter  loss  of  all  credit  and  belief  with  sober  and 
discreet  persons ;  and  consequently  of  all  capacity  of  being 
useful  in  the  prime  and  noblest  concerns  of  life.  For  there 
can  not  be  imagined  in  nature  a  more  forlorn,  useless,  and 
contemptible  tool,  or  more  unfit  for  any  thing,  than  a  discov 
ered  cheat.  And  let  men  rest  assured  of  this,  that  there  will 
be  always  some  as  able  to  discover  and  find  out  deceitful 
tricks  as  others  can  be  to  contrive  them.  For  God  forbid 
that  all  the  wit  and  cunning  of  the  world  should  still  run  on 
the  deceiver's  side ;  and  when  such  little  shifts  and  shuffling 
arts  come  once  to  be  ripped  up  and  laid  open,  how  poorly  and 
wretchedly  must  that  man  needs  sneak,  who  finds  himself 
both  guilty  and  baffled  too  !  a  knave  without  luck  is  certainly 
the  worst  trade  in  the  world.  But  truth  makes  the  face  of 
that  person  shine  who  speaks  and  owns  it :  while  a  lie  is  like 


PROV.  xii.  22.]    Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.         245 

a  vizard,  that  may  cover  the  face  indeed,  but  can  never  be 
come  it ;  nor  yet  does  it  cover  it  so  but  that  it  leaves  it  open 
enough  for  shame.  It  brands  a  man  with  a  lasting,  indelible 
character  of  ignominy  and  reproach,  and  that  indeed  so  foul 
and  odious,  that  those  usurping  hectors,  who  pretend  to 
honor  without  religion,  think  the  charge  of  a  lie  a  blot  upon 
them  not  to  be  washed  out  but  by  the  blood  of  him  that 
gives  it. 

For  what  place  can  that  man  fill  in  a  commonwealth,  whom 
nobody  will  either  believe  or  employ  ?  And  no  man  can  be 
considerable  in  himself,  who  has  not  made  himself  useful 
to  others :  nor  can  any  man  be  so,  who  is  incapable  of  a 
trust.  He  is  neither  fit  for  counsel  or  friendship,  for  service 
or  command,  to  be  in  office  or  in  honor,  but,  like  salt  that  has 
lost  its  savor,  fit  only  to  rot  and  perish  upon  a  dunghill. 

For  no  man  can  rely  upon  such  an  one,  either  with  safety 
to  his  aifairs  or  without  a  slur  to  his  reputation ;  since  he 
that  trusts  a  knave  has  no  other  recompense  but  to  be  ac 
counted  a  fool  for  his  pains.  And  if  he  thrusts  himself  into 
ruin  and  beggary,  he  falls  unpitied,  a  sacrifice  to  his  own  folly 
and  credulity ;  for  he  that  suffers  himself  to  be  imposed  upon 
by  a  known  deceiver,  goes  partner  in  the  cheat,  and  deceives 
himself.  He  is  despised  and  laughed  at  as  a  soft  and  easy 
person,  and  as  unfit  to  be  relied  upon  for  his  weakness,  as  the 
other  can  be  for  his  falseness. 

It  is  really  a  great  misery  not  to  know  whom  to  trust,  but 
a  much  greater  to  behave  one's  self  so  as  not  to  be  trusted. 
But  this  is  the  liar's  lot ;  he  is  accounted  a  pest  and  a  nui 
sance  ;  a  person  marked  out  for  infamy  and  scorn,  and  aban 
doned  by  all  men  of  sense  and  worth,  and  such  as  will  not 
abandon  themselves. 

2.  The  second  reward  or  punishment  that  attends  the  lying 
and  deceitful  person,  is  the  hatred  of  all  those  whom  he  either 
has  or  would  have  deceived.  I  do  not  say  that  a  Christian 
can  lawfully  hate  any  one ;  and  yet  I  affirm  that  some  may 
very  worthily  deserve  to  be  hated  ;  and  of  all  men  living,  who 
may  or  do,  the  deceiver  certainly  deserves  it  most.  To  which 
I  shall  add  this  one  remark  further ;  that  though  men's  per 
sons  ought  not  to  be  hated,  yet  without  all  peradventure  their 
practices  justly  may,  and  particularly  that  detestable  one 
which  we  are  now  speaking  of. 


246          Of  the  lose  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.     [SERM.  xn. 

For  whosoever  deceives  a  man,  does  not  only  do  all  that  he 
can  to  ruin  him,  but,  which  is  yet  worse,  to  make  him  ruin 
himself;  and  by  causing  an  error  in  the  great  guide  of  all  his 
actions,  his  judgment,  to  cause  an  error  in  his  choice  too ; 
the  misguidance  of  which  must  naturally  engage  him  in  those 
courses  that  directly  tend  to  his  destruction.  Loss  of  sight 
is  the  misery  of  life,  and  usually  the  forerunner  of  death ; 
when  the  malefactor  comes  once  to  be  muffled,  and  the  fatal 
cloth  drawn  over  his  eyes,  we  know  that  he  is  not  far  from  his 
execution. 

And  this  is  so  true,  that  whosoever  sees  a  man  who  would 
have  beguiled  and  imposed  upon  him,  by  making  him  believe 
a  lie,  he  may  truly  say  of  that  person,  That 's  the  man  who 
would  have  ruined  me,  who  would  have  stripped  me  of  the 
dignity  of  my  nature,  and  put  out  the  eyes  of  my  reason,  to 
make  himself  sport  with  my  calamity,  my  folly,  and  my  dis 
honor.  For  so  the  Philistines  used  Samson,  and  every  man 
in  this  sad  case  has  enough  of  Samson  to  be  his  own  exe 
cutioner.  Accordingly,  if  ever  it  comes  to  this,  that  a  man 
can  say  of  his  confidant,  he  would  have  deceived  me,  he  has 
said  enough  to  annihilate  and  abolish  all  pretenses  of  friend 
ship.  And  it  is  really  an  intolerable  impudence,  for  any  one 
to  offer  at  the  name  of  friend,  after  such  an  attempt.  For 
can  there  be  any  thing  of  friendship  in  snares,  hooks,  and 
trepans?  And  therefore,  whosoever  breaks  with  his  friend 
upon  such  terms,  has  enough  to  warrant  him  in  so  doing, 
both  before  God  and  man  ;  and  that  without  incurring  either 
the  guilt  of  unfaithfulness  before  the  one,  or  the  blemish  of 
inconstancy  before  the  other.  For  this  is  not  properly  to 
break  with  a  friend,  but  to  discover  an  enemy,  and  timely  to 
shake  the  viver  off  from  one's  hand. 

What  says  the  most  wise  author  of  that  excellent  book  of 
Ecclesiasticus,  Ecclus.  xxii.  21,  22  ?  Though  thou  drewest  a 
sword  at  thy  friend,  yet  despair  not :  for  there  may  be  a  return 
ing  to  favor.  If  thou  hast  opened  thy  mouth  against  thy  friend, 
fear  not  ;  for  there  may  be  a  reconciliation.  That  is,  an  hasty 
word  or  an  indiscreet  action  does  not  presently  dissolve  the 
bond,  or  root  out  a  well-settled  habit,  but  that  friendship 
may  be  still  sound  at  heart,  and  so  outgrow  and  wear  off 
these  little  distempers.  But  what  follows  ?  Except  for  up- 


PROV.  xii.  22.]    Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.         247 

braiding,  or  disclosing  of  secrets,  or  a  treacherous  wound,  (mark 
that :)  for  for  these  things,  says  he,  every  friend  will  depart. 
And  surely  it  is  high  time  for  him  to  go,  when  such  a  devil 
drives  him  away.  Passion,  anger,  and  unkindness  may  give 
a  wound  that  shall  bleed  and  smart,  but  it  is  treachery  only 
that  makes  it  fester. 

And  the  reason  of  the  difference  is  manifest ;  for  hasty 
words  or  blows  may  be  only  the  effects  of  a  sudden  passion, 
during  which  a  man  is  not  perfectly  himself:  but  no  man 
goes  about  to  deceive,  or  ensnare,  or  circumvent  another  in  a 
passion  ;  to  lay  trains,  and  set  traps,  and  give  secret  blows  in 
a  present  huff.  No;  this  is  always  done  with  forecast  and 
design  with  a  steady  aiming;  and  a  long  projecting  malice, 
assisted  with  all  the  skill  and  art  of  an  expert  and  well-man 
aged  hypocrisy ;  and,  perhaps,  not  without  the  pharisaical 
feigned  guise  of  something  like  self-denial  and  mortification  ; 
which  are  things  in  which  the  whole  man,  and  the  whole 
devil  too,  are  employed,  and  all  the  powers  and  faculties  of 
the  mind  are  exerted  and  made  use  of. 

But  for  all  these  masks  and  vizards,  nothing  certainly  can 
be  thought  of  or  imagined  more  base,  inhuman,  or  diabolical, 
than  for  one  to  abuse  the  generous  confidence  and  hearty 
freedom  of  his  friend,  and  to  undermine  and  ruin  him  in 
those  very  concerns  which  nothing  but  too  great  a  respect 
to,  and  too  good  an  opinion  of  the  traitor,  made  the  poor 
man  deposit  in  his  hollow  and  fallacious  breast.  Such  an 
one,  perhaps,  thinks  to  find  some  support  and  shelter  in  my 
friendship,  and  I  take  that  opportunity  to  betray  him  to  his 
mortal  enemies.  He  comes  to  me  for  counsel,  and  I  show 
him  a  trick.  He  opens  his  bosom  to  me,  and  I  stab  him  to 
the  heart. 

These  are  the  practices  of  the  world  we  live  in ;  especially 
since  the  year  sixty,  the  grand  epoch  of  falsehood,  as  well  as 
debauchery.  But  God,  who  is  the  great  guarantee  for  the 
peace,  order,  and  good  behavior  of  mankind,  where  laws  can 
not  secure  it,  may  some  time  or  other  think  it  the  concern 
of  his  justice  and  providence  too,  to  revenge  the  affronts  put 
upon  them,  by  such  impudent  defiers  of  both,  as  neither  be 
lieve  a  God,  nor  ought  to  be  believed  by  man. 

In  the  mean  time,  let  such  perfidious  wretches  know,  that 


248  Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.    [SEEM.  xn. 

though  they  believe  a  devil  no  more  than  they  do  a  God,  yet 
in  all  this  scene  of  refined  treachery,  they  are  really  doing  the 
devil's  journey-work,  who  was  a  liar  and  a  murderer  from  the 
beginning,  and  therefore  a  liar,  that  he  might  be  a  murderer : 
and  the  truth  is,  such  an  one  does  all  towards  his  brother's 
ruin  that  the  devil  himself  could  do.  For  the  devil  can  but 
tempt  and  deceive,  and  if  he  can  not  destroy  a  man  that  way, 
his  power  is  at  an  end. 

But  I  can  not  dismiss  this  head  without  one  further  note, 
as  very  material  in  the  case  now  before  us.  Namely,  that 
since  this  false,  wily,  doubling  disposition  of  mind  is  so  intol 
erably  mischievous  to  society,  God  is  sometimes  pleased,  in 
mere  pity  and  compassion  to  men,  to  give  them  warning  of  it, 
by  setting  some  odd  mark  upon  such  Cains.  So  that,  if  a 
man  will  be  but  so  true  to  himself  as  to  observe  such  persons 
exactly,  he  shall  generally  spy  such  false  lines,  and  such  a 
sly,  treacherous  leer  upon  their  face,  that  he  shall  be  sure  to 
have  a  cast  of  their  eye  to  warn  him,  before  they  give  him  a 
cast  of  their  nature  to  betray  him.  And  in  such  cases,  a  man 
may  see  more  and  better  by  another's  eye  than  he  can  by  his 
own. 

Let  this,  therefore,  be  the  second  reward  of  the  lying  and 
deceitful  person,  that  he  is  the  object  of  a  just  hatred  and 
abhorrence.  For  as  the  devil  is  both  a  liar  himself  and  the 
father  of  liars,  so  I  think  that  the  same  cause  that  has 
drawn  the  hatred  of  God  and  man  upon  the  father,  may  justly 
entail  it  upon  his  offspring  too ;  and  it  is  pity  that  such  an 
entail  should  ever  be  cut  off.  But, 

3.  And  lastly,  The  last  and  utmost  reward,  that  shall  in 
fallibly  reach  the  fraudulent  and  deceitful,  (as  it  will  all  other 
obstinate  and  impenitent  sinners,)  is  a  final  and  eternal  sep 
aration  from  God,  who  is  truth  itself,  and  with  whom  no 
shadow  of  falsehood  can  dwell.  He  that  telleth  lies,  says 
David,  in  Psalm  ci.  7,  shall  not  tarry  in  my  sight ;  and  if  not 
in  the  sight  of  a  poor  mortal  man,  (who  could  sometimes  lie 
himself,)  how  much  less  in  the  presence  of  the  infinite  and 
all-knowing  God  !  A  wise  and  good  prince,  or  governor,  will 
not  vouchsafe  a  liar  the  countenance  of  his  eye,  and  much 
less  the  privilege  of  his  ear.  The  Spirit  of  God  seems  to 
write  this  upon  the  very  gates  of  heaven,  and  to  state  the 


PROV.  xii.  22.]    Of  the  base  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.        249 

condition  of  men's  entrance  into  glory  chiefly  upon  their 
veracity.  In  Psalm  xv.  1,  Who  shall  ascend  into  thy  holy  hill  ? 
says  the  Psalmist.  To  which  it  is  answered,  in  ver.  2,  He 
that  workcth  righteousness,  and  that  speaketh  the  truth  from  his 
heart. 

And,  on  the  other  side,  how  emphatically  is  hell  described 
in  the  two  last  chapters  of  the  Revelation  ;  by  being-  the  great 
receptacle  and  mansion-house  of  liars,  whom  we  shall  find 
there  ranged  with  the  vilest  and  most  detestable  of  all  sin 
ners,  appointed  to  have  their  portion  in  that  horrid  place; 
Rev.  xxi.  8 ;  TJie  unbelieving,  and  the  abominable,  and  murderers, 
and  whoremongers,  and  sorcerers,  and  idolaters,  and  all  liars, 
shall  have  their  part  in  tJie  lake  which  burneth  with  fire  and 
brimstone  :  and  in  Rev.  xxii.  15,  Without  are  dogs  and  sorcerers, 
&c.,  and  whosoever  loveth  and  maketli  a  lie. 

Now  let  those  consider  this,  whose  tongue  and  heart  hold 
no  correspondence :  who  look  upon  it  as  a  piece  of  art  and 
wisdom,  and  the  masterpiece  of  conversation,  to  overreach 
and  deceive,  and  make  a  prey  of  a  credulous  and  well-mean 
ing  honesty.  What  do  such  persons  think?  Are  dogs, 
whoremongers,  and  sorcerers  such  desirable  company  to  take 
up  with  forever  ?  Will  the  burning  lake  be  found  so  tolera 
ble  ?  Or  will  there  be  any  one  to  drop  refreshment  upon  the 
false  tongue,  when  it  shall  be  tormented  in  those  flames  ?  Or 
do  they  think  that  God  is  a  liar  like  themselves,  and  that  no 
such  things  shall  ever  come  to  pass,  but  that  all  these  fiery 
threatening^  shall  vanish  into  smoke,  and  this  dreadful  sen 
tence  blow  off  without  execution  ?  Few  certainly  can  lie  to 
their  own  hearts  so  far  as  to  imagine  this :  but  hell  is,  and 
must  be  granted  to  be,  the  deceiver's  portion,  not  only  by  the 
judgment  of  God,  but  of  his  own  conscience  too.  And,  com 
paring  the  malignity  of  his  sin  with  the  nature  of  the  pun 
ishment  allotted  for  him,  all  that  can  be  said  of  a  liar  lodged 
in  the  very  nethermost  hell,  is  this ;  that  if  the  vengeance  of 
God  could  prepare  any  place  or  condition  worse  than  hell  for 
sinners,  hell  itself  would  be  too  good  for  him. 

And  now  to  sum  up  all  in  short ;  I  have  shown  what  a  lie 
is,  and  wherein  the  nature  of  falsehood  does  consist ;  that  it 
is  a  thing  absolutely  and  intrinsically  evil ;  that  it  is  an  act 
of  injustice,  and  a  violation  of  our  neighbor's  right. 


250  Of  the  lose  Sins  of  Falsehood  and  Lying.   [SEKM.  xn. 

And  that  the  vileness  of  its  nature  is  equalled  by  the  ma 
lignity  of  its  effects.  It  being  this  that  first  brought  sin  into 
the  world,  and  is  since  the  cause  of  all  those  miseries  and 
calamities  that  disturb  it ;  and  further,  that  it  tends  utterly 
to  dissolve  and  overthrow  society,  which  is  the  greatest  tem 
poral  blessing  and  support  of  mankind:  and,  which  is  yet 
worst  of  all,  that  it  has  a  strange  and  particular  efficacy,  above 
all  other  sins,  to  indispose  the  heart  to  religion. 

And  lastly,  that  it  is  as  dreadful  in  its  punishments  as  it 
has  been  pernicious  in  its  effects.  Forasmuch  as  it  deprives 
a  man  of  all  credit  and  belief,  and  consequently,  of  all  ca 
pacity  of  being  useful  in  any  station  or  condition  of  life 
whatsoever ;  and  next,  that  it  draws  upon  him  the  just  and 
universal  hatred  and  abhorrence  of  all  men  here ;  and  finally 
subjects  him  to  the  wrath  of  God  and  eternal  damnation 
hereafter. 

And  now,  if  none  of  all  these  considerations  can  recom 
mend  and  endear  truth  to  the  words  and  practices  of  men, 
and  work  upon  their  double  hearts  so  far  as  to  convince  and 
make  them  sensible  of  the  baseness  of  the  sin  and  greatness 
of  the  guilt  that  fraud  and  falsehood  leaves  upon  the  soul ; 
let  them  lie  and  cheat  on,  till  they  receive  a  fuller  and  more 
effectual  conviction  of  all  these  things,  in  that,  place  of  tor 
ment  and  confusion  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels, 
and  all  his  lying  retinue,  by  the  decree  and  sentence  of  that 
God  who,  in  his  threatenings  as  well  as  in  his  promises,  will 
be  true  to  his  word,  and  can  not  lie. 

To  whom  be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise, 
might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for  evermore. 
Amen. 


SERMON  XIII. 

THE  PRACTICE  OF  RELIGION  ENFORCED  BY  REASON: 

IN  A  SERMON  PREACHED  AT  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY,  1667. 

TO  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  OXFORD.* 

REVEREND  AND  LEARNED  SIRS, 

npHESE  discourses  (most  of  them  at  least)  having  by  the  favor 
of  your  patience  had  the  honor  of  your  audience,  and  being 
now  published  in  another  and  more  lasting  way,  do  here  humbly 
cast  themselves  at  your  feet,  imploring  the  yet  greater  favor  and 
honor  of  your  patronage,  or  at  least  the  benevolence  of  your  pardon. 

Amongst  which,  the  chief  design  of  some  of  them  is,  to  assert 
the  rights  and  constitutions  of  our  excellently  reformed  church, 
which  of  late  we  so  often  hear  reproached  (in  the  modish  dialect 
of  the  present  times)  by  the  name  of  little  things ;  and  that  in  order 
to  their  being  laid  aside,  not  only  as  little,  but  superfluous.  But  for 
my  own  part,  I  can  account  nothing  little  in  any  church  which  has 
the  stamp  of  undoubted  authority,  and  the  practice  of  primitive 
antiquity,  as  well  as  the  reason  and  decency  of  the  thing  itself,  to 
warrant  and  support  it.  Though,  if  the  supposed  littleness  of  these 
matters  should  be  a  sufficient  reason  for  the  laying  them  aside,  I  fear 
our  church  will  be  found  to  have  more  little  men  to  spare  than  little 
things. 

But  I  have  observed  all  along,  that  while  this  innovating  spirit 
has  been  striking  at  the  constitutions  of  our  church,  the  same  has 
been  giving  several  bold  and  scurvy  strokes  at  some  of  her  articles 
too  :  an  evident  demonstration  to  me,  that  whensoever  her  discipline 
shall  be  destroyed,  her  doctrine  will  not  long  survive  it :  and  I  doubt 
not  but  it  is  for  the  sake  of  this,  that  the  former  is  so  much  maligned 
and  shot  at.  Pelagianism  and  Socinianism,  with  several  other 
heterodoxies  cognate  to  and  dependent  upon  them,  which  of  late, 
*  This  dedication  refers  to  the  twelve  sermons  next  following. 


252  The  Epistle  Dedicatory. 

with  so  much  confidence  and  scandalous  countenance,  walk  about 
daring  the  world,  are  certainly  no  doctrines  of  the  church  of  Eng 
land.  And  none  are  abler  and  fitter  to  make  them  appear  what  they 
are,  and  whither  they  tend,  than  our  excellent  and  so  well  stocked  uni 
versities  ;  and  if  these  will  but  bestir  themselves  against  all  innova 
tors  whatsoever,  it  will  quickly  be  seen,  that  our  church  needs  none, 
either  to  fill  her  places  or  to  defend  her  doctrines,  but  the  sons  whom 
she  herself  has  brought  forth  and  bred  up.  Her  charity  is  indeed 
great  to  others,  and  the  greater,  for  that  she  is  so  well  provided  of 
all  that  can  contribute  either  to  her  strength  or  ornament  without 
them.  The  altar  receives  and  protects  such  as  fly  to  it,  but  needs 
them  not. 

We  are  not  so  dull,  but  we  perceive  who  are  the  prime  designers, 
as  well  as  the  professed  actors  against  our  church,  and  from  what 
quarter  the  blow  chiefly  threatens  us.  We  know  the  spring  as  well 
as  we  observe  the  motion,  and  scent  the  foot  which  pursues,  as  well 
as  see  the  hand  which  is  lifted  up  against  us.  The  pope  is  an  ex 
perienced  workman  ;  he  knows  his  tools,  and  knows  them  to  be  but 
tools,  and  knows  withal  how  to  use  them,  and  that  so,  that  they  shall 
neither  know  who  it  is  that  uses  them,  or  what  he  uses  them  for ; 
and  we  can  not  in  reason  presume  his  skill  now  in  ninety-three,  to 
be  at  all  less  than  it  was  in  forty-one.  But  God,  who  has  even  to  a 
miracle  protected  the  church  of  England  hitherto,  against  all  the 
power  and  spite  both  of  her  open  and  concealed  enemies,  will,  we 
hope,  continue  to  protect  so  pure  and  rational,  so  innocent  and  self- 
denying  a  constitution  still.  And  next,  under  God,  we  must  rely 
upon  the  old  church  of  England  clergy,  together  with  the  two  uni 
versities,  both  to  support  and  recover  her  declining  state.  For  so 
long  as  the  universities  are  sound  and  orthodox,  the  church  has  both 
her  eyes  open ;  and  while  she  has  so,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  she  will 
look  about  her,  and  consider  again  and  again  what  she  is  to  change 
from,  and  what  she  must  change  to,  and  where  she  shall  make  an 
end  of  changing,  before  she  quits  her  present  constitution. 

Innovations  about  religion  are  certainly  the  most  efficacious,  as 
well  as  the  most  plausible  way  of  compassing  a  total  abolition  of  it. 
One  of  the  best  and  strongest  arguments  we  have  against  popery 
is,  that  it  is  an  innovation  upon  the  Christian  church  ;  and  if  so,  I 
can  not  see  why  that,  which  we  explode  in  the  popish  church,  should 
pass  for  such  a  piece  of  perfection  in  a  reformed  one.  The  papists 
I  am  sure  (our  shrewdest  and  most  designing  enemies)  desire  and 
push  on  this  to  their  utmost ;  and  for  that  very  reason  one  would 
think  that  we  (if  we  are  not  besotted)  should  oppose  it  to  our  ut 
most  too.  However,  let  us  but  have  our  liturgy  continued  to  us  as 


The  Epistle  Dedicatory.  253 

it  is,  till  the  persons  are  born  who  shall  be  able  to  mend  it,  or  make 
a  better,  and  we  desire  no  greater  security  against  either  the  altering 
this,  or  introducing  another. 

The  truth  is,  such  as  would  new  model  the  church  of  England 
ought  not  only  to  have  a  new  religion,  (which  some  have  been  so 
long  driving  at,)  but  a  new  reason  likewise,  to  proceed  by  :  since 
experience  (which  was  ever  yet  accounted  one  of  the  surest  and  best 
improvements  of  reason)  has  been  always  for  acquiescing  in  things 
settled  with  sober  and  mature  advice,  (and,  in  the  present  case  also, 
with  the  very  blood  and  martyrdom  of  the  advisers  themselves,) 
without  running  the  risk  of  new  experiments;  which,  though  in 
philosophy  they  may  be  commendable,  yet  in  religion  and  religious 
matters  are  generally  fatal  and  pernicious.  The  church  is  a  royal 
society  for  settling  old  things,  and  not  for  finding  out  new.  In  a 
word,  we  serve  a  wise  and  unchangeable  God,  and  we  desire  to  do  it 
by  a  religion  and  in  a  church  (as  like  him  as  may  be)  without  changes 
or  alterations. 

And  now,  as  in  so  important  a  matter  I  would  interest  both  uni 
versities,  so  I  do  it  with  the  same  honor  and  deference  to  both ; 
as  abhorring  from  my  heart  the  pedantic  partiality  of  preferring  one 
before  the  other :  since  (if  my  relation  to  one  should  never  so  much 
incline  me  so  to  do)  I  must  sincerely  declare,  that  I  can  not  see  how 
to  place  a  preference  where  I  can  find  no  preeminence.  And  there 
fore,  as  they  are  both  equal  in  fame,  and  learning,  and  all  that  is 
great  and  excellent,  so  I  hope  to  see  them  always  one  in  judgment 
and  design,  heart  and  affection ;  without  any  strife,  emulation,  or 
contest  between  them  except  this  one,  (which  I  wish  may  be  perpet 
ual,)  viz.,  which  of  the  two  best  universities  in  the  world  shall  be 
most  serviceable  to  the  best  church  in  the  world,  by  their  learning, 
constancy,  and  integrity. 

But  to  conclude,  there  remains  no  more  for  me  to  do,  but  to  beg 
pardon  of  that  august  body  to  which  I  belong,  if  I  have  offended  in 
assuming  to  myself  the  honor  of  mentioning  my  relation  to  a  society 
which  I  could  never  reflect  the  least  honor  upon,  nor  contribute  the 
least  advantage  to. 

All  that  I  can  add  is,  that  as  it  was  my  fortune  to  serve  this  noble 
seat  of  learning  for  many  years,  as  her  public,  though  unworthy  ora 
tor,  so  upon  that,  and  other  innumerable  accounts,  I  ought  forever 
to  be,  and  to  acknowledge  myself, 

Her  most  faithful,  obedient, 

and  devoted  servant, 

Westminster  Abbey,  ROBERT  SOUTH. 

Nov.  17,  1693. 


254     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.    [SERM.  xin. 


PROV.  x.  9.  —  He  that  walJceth  uprightly  walketh  surely. 

AS  it  were  easy  to  evince,  both  from  reason  and  experience, 
that  there  is  a  strange,  restless  activity  in  the  soul  of 
man,  continually  disposing  it  to  operate,  and  exert  its  facul 
ties,  so  the  phrase  of  scripture  still  expresses  the  life  of  man 
by  walking ;  that  is,  it  represents  an  active  principle  in  an 
active  posture.  And  because  the  nature  of  man  carries  him 
thus  out  to  action,  it  is  no  wonder  if  the  same  nature  equally 
renders  him  solicitous  about  the  issue  and  event  of  his  ac 
tions  ;  for  every  one,  by  reflecting  upon  the  way  and  method 
of  his  own  workings,  will  find  that  he  is  still  determined  in 
them  by  a  respect  to  the  consequence  of  what  he  does ; 
always  proceeding  upon  this  argumentation :  If  I  do  such  a 
thing,  such  an  advantage  will  follow  from  it,  and  therefore 
I  will  do  it.  And  if  I  do  this,  such  a  mischief  will  ensue 
thereupon,  and  therefore  I  will  forbear.  Every  one,  I  say,  is 
concluded  by  this  practical  discourse ;  and  for  a  man  to  bring 
his  actions  to  the  event  proposed  and  designed  by  him,  is  to 
walk  surely.  But  since  the  event  of  an  action  usually  follows 
the  nature  or  quality  of  it,  and  the  quality  follows  the  rule 
directing  it,  it  concerns  a  man,  by  all  means,  in  the  framing 
of  his  actions,  not  to  be  deceived  in  the  rule  which  he  pro 
poses  for  the  measure  of  them ;  which,  without  great  and 
exact  caution,  he  may  be  these  two  ways  : 

1.  By  laying  false  and  deceitful  principles. 

2.  In  case  he  lays  right  principles,  yet  by  mistaking  in  the 
consequences  which  he  draws  from  them. 

An  error  in  either  of  which  is  equally  dangerous ;  for  if  a 
man  is  to  draw  a  line,  it  is  all  one  whether  he  does  it  by  a 
crooked  rule,  or  by  a  straight  one  misapplied.  He  who  fixes 
upon  false  principles  treads  upon  infirm  ground,  and  so  sinks 
and  he  who  fails  in  his  deductions  from  right  principles, 
stumbles  upon  firm  ground,  and  so  falls ;  the  disaster  is  not 
of  the  same  kind,  but  of  the  same  mischief  in  both. 

It  must  be  confessed,  that  it  is  sometimes  very  hard  to 
judge  of  the  truth  or  goodness  of  principles,  considered  barely 
in  themselves,  and  abstracted  from  their  consequences.  But 
certainly  he  acts  upon  the  surest  and  most  prudential  grounds 


PROV.  x.  9.]     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.     255 

in  the  world,  who,  whether  the  principles  which  he  acts  upon 
prove  true  or  false,  yet  secures  an  happy  issue  to  his  actions. 

Now  he  who  guides  his  actions  by  the  rules  of  piety  and 
religion,  lays  these  two  principles  as  the  great  ground  of  all 
that  he  does : 

1.  That  there  is  an  infinite,  eternal,  all- wise  mind  govern 
ing  the  affairs  of  the  world,  and  taking  such  an  account  of 
the  actions  of  men  as,  according  to  the  quality  of  them,  to 
punish  or  reward  them. 

2dly,  That  there  is  an  estate  of  happiness  or  misery  after 
this  life,  allotted  to  every  man,  according  to  the  quality  of  his 
actions  here.  These,  I  say,  are  the  principles  which  every 
religious  man  proposes  to  himself;  and  the  deduction  which 
he  makes  from  them  is  this  :  That  it  is  his  grand  interest  and 
concern  so  to  act  and  behave  himself  in  this  world,  as  to 
secure  himself  from  an  estate  of  misery  in  the  other.  And 
thus  to  act,  is,  in  the  phrase  of  scripture,  to  walk  uprightly  ; 
and  it  is  my  business  to  prove,  that  he  who  acts  in  the 
strength  of  this  conclusion,  drawn  from  the  two  forementioned 
principles,  walks  surely,  or  secures  an  happy  event  to  his  ac 
tions,  against  all  contingencies  whatsoever. 

And  to  demonstrate  this,  I  shall  consider  the  said  princi 
ples  under  a  threefold  supposition  : 

1st,  As  certainly  true  ; 

2dly,  As  probable  ;  and, 

3dly,  As  false. 

And  if  the  pious  man  brings  his  actions  to  an  happy  end, 
which  soever  of  these  suppositions  his  principles  fall  under, 
then  certainly  there  is  none  who  walks  so  surely,  and  upon 
such  irrefragable  grounds  of  prudence,  as  he  who  is  religious. 

1.  First  of  all  therefore  we  will  take  these  principles  (as 
we  may  very  well  do)  under  the  hypothesis  of  certainly  true  : 
where,  though  the  method  of  the  ratiocination  which  I  have 
cast  the  present  discourse  into,  does  not  naturally  engage 
me  to  prove  them  so,  but  only  to  show  what  directly  and 
necessarily  follows  upon  a  supposal  that  they  are  so ;  yet  to 
give  the  greater  perspicuity  and  clearness  to  the  prosecution 
of  the  subject  in  hand,  I  shall  briefly  demonstrate  them  thus. 

It  is  necessary  that  there  should  be  some  first  mover ;  and, 
if  so,  a  first  being ;  and  the  first  being  must  infer  an  infinite, 


256     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  &?/  Reason.     [SERM.  xm. 

unlimited  perfection  in  the  said  being :  forasmuch  as  if  it 
were  finite  or  limited,  that  limitation  must  have  been  either 
from  itself  or  from  something-  else.  But  not  from  itself, 
since  it  is  contrary  to  reason  and  nature,  that  any  being 
should  limit  its  own  perfection ;  nor  yet  from  something  else, 
since  then  it  should  not  have  been  the  first,  as  supposing 
some  other  thing  coevous  to  it ;  which  is  against  the  present 
supposition.  So  that  it  being  clear,  that  there  must  be  a  first 
being,  and  that  infinitely  perfect,  it  will  follow  that  all  other 
perfection  that  is,  must  be  derived  from  it ;  and  so  we  infer 
the  creation  of  the  world :  and  then  supposing  the  world 
created  by  God,  (since  it  is  noways  reconcilable  to  God's 
wisdom  that  he  should  not  also  govern  it,)  creation  must 
needs  infer  providence :  and  then  it  being  granted  that  God 
governs  the  world,  it  will  follow  also  that  he  does  it  by  means 
suitable  to  the  natures  of  the  things  he  governs,  and  to  the 
attainment  of  the  proper  ends  of  government :  and  moreover, 
man  being  by  nature  a  free  moral  agent,  and  so  capable  of  de 
viating  from  his  duty,  as  well  as  performing  it,  it  is  necessary 
that  he  should  be  governed  by  laws :  and  since  laws  require 
that  they  be  enforced  with  the  sanction  of  rewards  and  pun 
ishments,  sufficient  to  sway  and  work  upon  the  minds  of  such 
as  are  to  be  governed  by  them ;  and  lastly,  since  experience 
shows  that  rewards  and  punishments,  terminated  only  within 
this  life,  are  not  sufficient  for  that  purpose,  it  fairly  and  ra 
tionally  follows  that  the  rewards  and  punishments,  which 
God  governs  mankind  by,  do  and  must  look  beyond  it. 

And  thus  I  have  given  a  brief  proof  of  the  certainty  of 
these  principles ;  namely,  that  there  is  a  supreme  governor 
of  the  world ;  and  that  there  is  a  future  estate  of  happiness 
or  misery  for  men  after  this  life :  which  principles,  while  a 
man  steers  his  course  by,  if  he  acts  piously,  soberly,  and  tem 
perately,  I  suppose  there  needs  no  further  arguments  to 
evince  that  he  acts  prudentially  and  safely.  For  he  acts  as 
under  the  eye  of  his  just  and  severe  Judge,  who  reaches  to 
his  creature  a  command  with  one  hand,  and  a  reward  with 
the  other.  He  spends  as  a  person  who  knows  that  he  must 
come  to  a  reckoning.  He  sees  an  eternal  happiness  or  misery 
suspended  upon  a  few  days'  behavior ;  and  therefore  he  lives 
every  hour  as  for  eternity.  His  future  condition  has  such  a 


PROV.  x.  9.]     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.     257 

powerful  influence  upon  his  present  practice,  because  he  en 
tertains  a  continual  apprehension  and  a  firm  persuasion  of  it. 
If  a  man  walks  over  a  narrow  bridge  when  he  is  drunk,  it  is 
no  wonder  that  he  forgets  his  caution,  while  he  overlooks  his 
danger.  But  he  who  is  sober,  and  views  that  nice  separation 
between  himself  and  the  devouring  deep,  so  that  if  he  should 
slip,  he  sees  his  grave  gaping  under  him,  surely  must  needs 
take  every  step  with  horror,  and  the  utmost  caution  and  so 
licitude. 

But  for  a  man  to  believe  it  as  the  most  undoubted  certainty 
in  the  world,  that  he  shall  be  judged  according  to  the  quality 
of  his  actions  here,  and  after  judgment  receive  an  eternal 
recompense,  arid  yet  to  take  his  full  swing  in  all  the  pleasures 
of  sin,  is  it  not  a  greater  frenzy,  than  for  a  man  to  take  a 
purse  at  Tyburn,  while  he  is  actually  seeing  another  hanged 
for  the  same  fact  ?  It  is  really  to  dare  and  defy  the  justice  of 
Heaven,  to  laugh  at  right-aiming  thunderbolts,  to  puff  at 
damnation,  and,  in  a  word,  to  bid  Omnipotence  do  its  worst. 
He  indeed  who  thus  walks,  walks  surely ;  but  it  is  because  he 
is  sure  to  be  damned. 

I  confess  it  is  hard  to  reconcile  such  a  stupid  course  to  the 
natural  way  of  the  soul's  acting ;  according  to  which,  the  will 
moves  according  to  the  proposals  of  good  and  evil,  made  by 
the  understanding  :  and  therefore  for  a  man  to  run  headlong 
into  the  bottomless  pit,  while  the  eye  of  a  seeing  conscience 
assures  him  that  it  is  bottomless  and  open,  and  all  return 
from  it  desperate  and  impossible ;  while  his  ruin  stares  him 
in  the  face,  and  the  sword  of  vengeance  points  directly  at  his 
heart,  still  to  press  on  to  the  embraces  of  his  sin,  is  a  prob 
lem  unresolvable  upon  any  other  ground,  but  that  sin  infat 
uates  before  it  destroys.  For  Judas  to  receive  and  swallow 
the  sop,  when  his  master  gave  it  him  seasoned  with  those 
terrible  words,  It  had  been  good  for  that  man  tliat  he  had  never 
been  born  ;  surely  this  argued  a  furious  appetite  and  a  strong 
stomach,  that  could  thus  catch  at  a  morsel  with  the  fire  and 
brimstone  all  flaming  about  it,  and,  as  it  were,  digest  death 
itself,  and  make  a  meal  upon  perdition. 

I  could  wish  that  every  bold  sinner,  when  he  is  about  to 
engage  in  the  commission  of  any  known  sin,  would  arrest  his 
confidence,  and  for  a  while  stop  the  execution  of  his  purpose, 

VOL.  I.  17 


258     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.     [SERM.  xm. 

with  this  short  question,  Do  I  believe  that  it  is  really  true, 
that  God  has  denounced  death  to  such  a  practice,  or  do  I  not  ? 
If  he  does  not,  let  him  renounce  his  Christianity,  and  sur 
render  back  his  baptism,  the  water  of  which  might  better 
serve  him  to  cool  his  tongue  in  hell,  than  only  to  consign  him 
over  to  the  capacity  of  so  black  an  apostasy.  But  if  he  does 
believe  it,  how  will  he  acquit  himself  upon  the  accounts  of 
bare  reason?  For  does  he  think  that  if  he  pursues  the 
means  of  death,  they  will  not  bring  him  to  that  fatal  end  ? 
Or  does  he  think  that  he  can  grapple  with  divine  vengeance, 
and  endure  the  everlasting  burnings,  or  arm  himself  against 
the  bites  of  the  never-dying  worm?  No,  surely,  these  are 
things  not  to  be  imagined ;  and  therefore  I  can  not  conceive 
what  security  the  presuming  sinner  can  promise  himself,  but 
upon  these  two  following  accounts  : 

1.  That  God  is  merciful,  and  will  not  be  so  severe  as  his 
word ;  and  that  his  threatenings  of  eternal  torments  are  not 
so  decretory  and  absolute  but  that  there  is  a  very  comfortable 
latitude  left  in  them  for  men  of  skill  to  creep  out  at.  And 
here  it  must  indeed  be  confessed  that  Origen,  and  some 
others,  not  long  since,  who  have  been  so  officious  as  to  furbish 
up  and  reprint  his  old  errors,  hold  that  the  sufferings  of  the 
damned  are  not  to  be,  in  a  strict  sense,  eternal ;  but  that, 
after  a  certain  revolution  and  period  of  time,  there  shall  be  a 
general  jail-delivery  of  the  souls  in  prison,  and  that  not  for 
a  further  execution,  but  a  final  release.  And  it  must  be  fur 
ther  acknowledged  that  some  of  the  ancients,  like  kind- 
hearted  men,  have  talked  much  of  annual  refrigeriums,  res 
pites,  or  intervals  of  punishment  to  the  damned,  as  particu 
larly  on  the  great  festivals  of  the  resurrection,  ascension, 
pentecost,  and  the  like.  In  which,  as  these  good  men  are 
more  to  be  commended  for  their  kindness  and  compassion 
than  to  be  followed  in  their  opinion ;  (which  may  be  much 
better  argued  by  wishes  than  demonstrations  ;)  so,  admitting 
that  it  were  true,  yet  what  a  pitiful,  slender  comfort  would 
this  amount  to  !  much  like  the  Jews  abating  the  punishment 
of  malefactors  from  forty  stripes  to  forty  save  one.  A  great 
indulgence  indeed,  even  as  great  as  the  difference  between 
forty  and  thirty-nine ;  and  yet  much  less  considerable  would 
that  indulgence  be  of  a  few  holidays  in  the  measures  of 


PROV.  x.  9.]      The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.     259 

eternity,  of  some  hours'  ease,  compared  with  infinite  ages  of 
torment. 

Supposing-,  therefore,  that  few  sinners  relieve  themselves 
with  such  groundless,  trifling  considerations  as  these,  yet  may 
they  not  however  fasten  a  rational  hope  upon  the  houndless 
mercy  of  God,  that  this  may  induce  him  to  spare  his  poor 
creature,  though  by  sin  become  obnoxious  to  his  wrath  ?  To 
this  I  answer,  that  the  divine  mercy  is  indeed  large,  and  far 
surpassing  all  created  measures,  yet  nevertheless  it  has  its 
proper  time  ;  and  after  this  life  it  is  the  time  of  justice ;  and 
to  hope  for  the  favors  of  mercy  then,  is  to  expect  an  harvest 
in  the  dead  of  winter.  God  has  cast  all  his  works  into  a  cer 
tain,  inviolable  order ;  according  to  which,  there  is  a  time  to 
pardon  and  a  time  to  punish ;  and  the  time  of  one  is  not  the 
time  of  the  other.  When  corn  has  once  felt  the  sickle,  it  has 
no  more  benefit  from  the  sunshine.  But, 

2dly,  If  the  conscience  be  too  apprehensive  (as  for  the  most 
part  it  is)  to  venture  the  final  issue  of  things  upon  a  fond 
persuasion  that  the  great  Judge  of  the  world  will  relent,  and 
not  execute  the  sentence  pronounced  by  him;  as  if  he  had 
threatened  men  with  hell  rather  to  fright  them  from  sin  than 
with  an  intent  to  punish  them  for  it ;  I  say,  if  the  conscience 
can  not  find  any  satisfaction  or  support  from  such  reasonings 
as  these,  yet  may  it  not,  at  least,  relieve  itself  with  the  pur 
poses  of  a  future  repentance,  notwithstanding  its  present 
actual  violations  of  the  law  ?  I  answer,  that  this  certainly  is 
a  confidence  of  all  others  the  most  ungrounded  and  irrational. 
For  upon  what  ground  can  a  man  promise  himself  a  future 
repentance,  who  can  not  promise  himself  a  futurity  ?  whose 
life  depends  upon  his  breath,  and  is  so  restrained  to  the  pres 
ent  that  it  can  not  secure  to  itself  the  reversion  of  the  very 
next  minute.  Have  not  many  died  with  the  guilt  of  im 
penitence  and  the  designs  of  repentance  together  ?  If  a  man 
dies  to-day,  by  the  prevalence  of  some  ill  humors,  will  it 
avail  him  that  he  intended  to  have  bled  and  purged  to 
morrow  ? 

But  how  dares  sinful  dust  and  ashes  invade  the  prerogative 
of  Providence,  and  carve  out  to  himself  the  seasons  and  issues 
of  life  and  death,  which  the  Father  keeps  wholly  within 
his  own  power?  How  does  that  man,  who  thinks  he  sins 


260     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.    [SEEM,  xin, 

securely  under  the  shelter  of  some  remote  purposes  of  amend 
ment,  know  but  that  the  decree  above  may  be  already 
passed  against  him,  and  his  allowance  of  mercy  spent;  so 
that  the  bow  in  the  clouds  is  now  drawn,  and  the  arrow  lev 
elled  at  his  head :  and  not  many  days  like  to  pass,  but  per 
haps  an  apoplexy,  or  an  imposthume,  or  some  sudden  disaster, 
may  stop  his  breath,  and  reap  him  down  as  a  sinner  ripe  for 
destruction. 

I  conclude,  therefore,  that,  upon  supposition  of  the  certain 
truth  of  the  principles  of  religion,  he  who  walks  not  up 
rightly  has  neither  from  the  presumption  of  God's  mercy 
reversing  the  decree  of  his  justice,  nor  from  his  own  pur 
poses  of  a  future  repentance,  any  sure  ground  to  set  his  foot 
upon,  but  in  this  whole  course  acts  as  directly  in  contradic 
tion  to  nature  as  he  does  in  defiance  of  grace.  In  a  word, 
he  is  besotted,  and  has  lost  his  reason ;  and  what  then  can 
there  be  for  religion  to  take  hold  of  him  by  ?  Come  we  now 
to  the 

2d  supposition,  under  which  we  show,  That  the  principles 
of  religion  laid  down  by  us  might  be  considered,  and  that  is, 
as  only  probable.  Where  we  must  observe  that  probability 
does  not  properly  make  any  alteration,  either  in  the  truth  or 
falsity  of  things  but  only  imports  a  different  degree  of  their 
clearness  or  appearance  to  the  understanding.  So  that  that 
is  to  be  accounted  probable,  which  has  more  and  better  argu 
ments  producible  for  it  than  can  be  brought  against  it ;  and 
surely  such  a  thing  at  least  is  religion.  For  certain  it  is,  that 
religion  is  universal,  I  mean  the  first  rudiments  and  general 
notions  of  religion,  called  natural  religion,  and  consisting  in 
the  acknowledgment  of  a  Deity,  and  of  the  common  princi 
ples  of  morality,  and  a  future  estate  of  souls  after  death,  (in 
which  also  we  have  all  that  some  reformers  and  refiners 
amongst  us  would  reduce  Christianity  itself  to.)  This  notion 
of  religion,  I  say,  has  diffused  itself  in  some  degree  or  other, 
greater  or  less,  as  far  as  human  nature  extends.  So  that 
there  is  no  nation  in  the  world,  though  plunged  into  never 
such  gross  and  absurd  idolatry,  but  has  some  awful  sense  of  a 
Deity,  and  a  persuasion  of  a  state  of  retribution  to  men  after 
this  life. 

But  now,  if  there  are  really  no  such  things,  but  all  is  a 


PROV.  x.  &.]     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  ly  Reason.      261 

mere  lie  and  a  fable,  contrived  only  to  chain  up  the  liberty 
of  man's  nature  from  a  freer  enjoyment  of  those  things, 
which  otherwise  it  would  have  as  full  a  right  to  enjoy  as  to 
breathe,  I  demand  whence  this  persuasion  could  thus  come  to 
be  universal  ?  For  was  it  ever  known,  in  any  other  instance, 
that  the  whole  world  was  brought  to  conspire  in  the  belief  of 
a  lie  ?  Nay,  and  of  such  a  lie  as  should  lay  upon  men  such 
unpleasing  abridgments,  tying  them  up  from  a  full  gratifi 
cation  of  those  lusts  and  appetites  which  they  so  impatiently 
desire  to  satisfy,  and  consequently,  by  all  means,  to  remove 
those  impediments  that  might  any  way  obstruct  their  satis 
faction  ?  Since  therefore  it  can  not  be  made  out  upon  any 
principle  of  reason,  how  all  the  nations  in  the  world,  otherwise 
so  distant  in  situation,  manners,  interests,  and  inclinations, 
should,  by  design  or  combination,  meet  in  one  persuasion; 
and  withal  that  men,  who  so  mortally  hate  to  be  deceived  and 
imposed  upon,  should  yet  suffer  themselves  to  be  deceived 
by  such  a  persuasion  as  is  false ;  and  not  only  false,  but  also 
cross  and  contrary  to  their  strongest  desires ;  so  that  if  it 
were  false,  they  would  set  the  utmost  force  of  their  reason  on 
work  to  discover  that  falsity,  and  thereby  disinthrall  them 
selves  ;  and  further,  since  there  is  nothing  false,  but  what 
may  be  proved  to  be  so ;  and  yet,  lastly,  since  all  the  power 
and  industry  of  man's  mind  has  not  been  hitherto  able  to 
prove  a  falsity  in  the  principles  of  religion,  it  irrefragably  fol 
lows,  (and  that,  I  suppose,  without  gathering  any  more  into 
the  conclusion  than  has  been  made  good  in  the  premises,)  that 
religion  is  at  least  a  very  high  probability. 

And  this  is  that  which  I  here  contend  for,  That  it  is  not 
necessary  to  the  obliging  men  to  believe  religion  to  be  true, 
that  this  truth  be  made  out  to  their  reason  by  arguments  de 
monstratively  certain  ;  but  that  it  is  sufficient  to  render  their 
unbelief  inexcusable,  even  upon  the  account  of  bare  reason, 
if  so  be  the  truth  of  religion  carry  in  it  a  much  greater 
probability  than  any  of  those  ratiocinations  that  pretend 
the  contrary :  and  this  I  prove  in  the  strength  of  these  two 
considerations. 

1st,  That  no  man,  in  matters  of  this  life,  requires  an  assur 
ance  either  of  the  good  which  he  designs,  or  of  the  evil 
which  he  avoids,  from  arguments  demonstratively  certain ; 


262     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.    [SERM.  xin. 

but  judges  himself  to  have  sufficient  ground  to  act  upon, 
from  a  probable  persuasion  of  the  event  of  things.  No  man 
who  first  traffics  into  a  foreign  country  has  any  scientific 
evidence  that  there  is  such  a  country,  but  by  report,  which 
can  produce  no  more  than  a  moral  certainty ;  that  is,  a  very 
high  probability,  and  such  as  there  can  be  no  reason  to  except 
against.  He  who  has  a  probable  belief  that  he  shall  meet 
with  thieves  in  such  a  road,  thinks  himself  to  have  reason 
enough  to  decline  it,  albeit  he  is  sure  to  sustain  some  less 
(though  yet  considerable)  inconvenience  by  his  so  doing. 
But  perhaps  it  may  be  replied,  (and  it  is  all  that  can  be  re 
plied,)  that  a  greater  assurance  and  evidence  is  required  of 
the  things  and  concerns  of  the  other  world  than  of  the  inter 
ests  of  this.  To  which  I  answer,  that  assurance  and  evidence 
(terms,  by  the  way,  extremely  different ;  the  first,  respecting 
properly  the  ground  of  our  assenting  to  a  thing ;  and  the 
other,  the  clearness  of  the  thing  or  object  assented  to)  have 
no  place  at  all  here,  as  being  contrary  to  our  present  supposi 
tion  ;  according  to  which,  we  are  now  treating  of  the  practi 
cal  principles  of  religion  only  as  probable,  and  falling  under 
a  probable  persuasion.  And  for  this  I  affirm,  that  where  the 
case  is  about  the  hazarding  an  eternal  or  a  temporal  concern, 
there  a  less  degree  of  probability  ought  to  engage  our  caution 
against  the  loss  of  the  former,  than  is  necessary  to  engage  it 
about  preventing  the  loss  of  the  latter.  Forasmuch  as  where 
things  are  least  to  be  put  to  the  venture,  as  the  eternal  inter 
ests  of  the  other  world  ought  to  be,  there  every,  even  the 
least,  probability  or  likelihood  of  danger,  should  be  provided 
against ;  but  where  the  loss  can  be  but  temporal,  every  small 
probability  of  it  need  not  put  us  so  anxiously  to  prevent  it, 
since,  though  it  should  happen,  the  loss  might  be  repaired 
again ;  or  if  not,  could  not  however  destroy  us,  by  reaching 
us  in  our  greatest  and  highest  concern ;  which  no  temporal 
thing  whatsoever  is  or  can  be.  And  this  directly  introduces 
the 

2d  consideration  or  argument,  viz.  That  bare  reason,  dis 
coursing  upon  a  principle  of  self-preservation,  (which  surely 
is  the  fundamental  principle  which  nature  proceeds  by,)  will 
oblige  a  man  voluntarily  and  by  choice  to  undergo  any  less 
evil  to  secure  himself  but  from  the  probability  of  an  evil  in- 


PROV.  x.  9.]     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.      263 

comparably  greater,  and  that  also  such  an  one,  as,  if  that 
probability  passes  into  a  certain  event,  admits  of  no  reparation 
by  any  after-remedy  that  can  be  applied  to  it. 

Now  that  religion,  teaching  a  future  estate  of  souls,  is  a 
probability ;  and  that  its  contrary  can  not  with  equal  proba 
bility  be  proved,  we  have  already  evinced.  This  therefore 
being  supposed,  we  will  suppose  yet  further,  that  for  a  man 
to  abridge  himself  in  the  full  satisfaction  of  his  appetites  and 
inclinations,  is  an  evil,  because  a  present  pain  and  trouble : 
but  then  it  must  likewise  be  granted,  that  nature  must  needs 
abhor  a  state  of  eternal  pain  and  misery  much  more  ;  and 
that  if  a  man  does  not  undergo  the  former  less  evil,  it  is 
highly  probable  that  such  an  eternal  estate  of  misery  will  be 
his  portion  ;  and  if  so,  I  would  fain  know  whether  that  man 
takes  a  rational  course  to  preserve  himself,  who  refuses  the 
endurance  of  these  lesser  troubles,  to  secure  himself  from  a 
condition  infinitely  and  inconceivably  more  miserable. 

But  since  probability,  in  the  nature  of  it,  supposes  that  a 
thing  may  or  may  not  be  so,  for  any  thing  that  yet  appears, 
or  is  certainly  determined  on  either  side,  we  will  here  consider 
both  sides  of  this  probability  :  as, 

1st,  That  it  is  one  way  possible,  that  there  may  be  no  such 
thing  as  a  future  estate  of  happiness  or  misery  for  those  who 
have  lived  well  or  ill  here ;  and  then  he  who,  upon  the 
strength  of  a  contrary  belief,  abridged  himself  in  the  gratifi 
cation  of  his  appetites,  sustains  only  this  evil ;  viz.  That  he 
did  not  please  his  senses  and  unbounded  desires,  so  much  as 
otherwise  he  might  and  would  have  done,  had  he  not  lived 
under  the  captivity  and  check  of  such  a  belief.  This  is  the 
utmost  which  he  suffers  :  but  whether  this  be  a  real  evil  or 
no,  (whatsoever  vulgar  minds  may  commonly  think  it,)  shall 
be  discoursed  of  afterwards. 

2.  But  then  again,  on  the  other  side,  it  is  probable  that 
there  will  be  such  a  future  estate ;  and  then  how  miserably  is 
the  voluptuous,  sensual  unbeliever  left  in  the  lurch !  For 
there  can  be  no  retreat  for  him  then,  no  mending  of  his 
choice  in  the  other  world,  no  after-game  to  be  played  in  hell. 
It  fares  with  men,  in  reference  to  their  future  estate,  and  the 
condition  upon  which  they  must  pass  to  it,  much  as  it  does 
with  a  merchant  having  a  vessel  richly  fraught  at  sea  in  a 


264     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.     [SERM.  xni. 

storm :  the  storm  grows  higher  and  higher,  and  threatens  the 
utter  loss  of  the  ship  :  hut  there  is  one,  and  hut  one  certain 
way  to  *eave  it,  which  is,  hy  throwing  its  rich  lading  over- 
hoard  ;  yet  still,  for  all  this,  the  man  knows  not  hut  possihly 
the  storm  may  cease,  and  so  all  he  preserved.  However,  in 
the  mean  time,  there  is  little  or  no  prohahility  that  it  will  do 
so ;  and  in  case  it  should  not,  he  is  then  assured  that  he 
must  lay  his  life,  as  well  as  his  rich  commodities,  in  the  cruel 
deep.  Now  in  this  case,  would  this  man,  think  we,  act  ra 
tionally,  should  he,  upon  the  slender  possibility  of  escaping 
otherwise,  neglect  the  sure,  infallible  preservation  of  his  life, 
by  casting  away  his  rich  goods  ?  No  certainly,  it  would  be  so 
far  from  it,  that  should  the  storm,  by  a  strange  hap,  cease 
immediately  after  he  had  thus  thrown  away  his  riches,  yet  the 
throwing  them  away  was  infinitely  more  rational  and  eligible, 
than  the  retaining  or  keeping  them  could  have  been. 

For  a  man,  while  he  lives  here  in  the  world,  to  doubt 
whether  there  be  any  hell  or  no ;  and  thereupon  to  live  so, 
as  if  absolutely  there  were  none ;  but  when  he  dies,  to  find 
himself  confuted  in  the  flames;  this,  surely,  must  be  the 
height  of  woe  and  disappointment,  and  a  bitter  conviction  of 
an  irrational  venture  and  an  absurd  choice.  In  doubtful  cases, 
reason  still  determines  for  the  safer  side ;  especially  if  the 
case  be  not  only  doubtful,  but  also  highly  concerning,  and  the 
venture  be  of  a  soul  and  an  eternity. 

He  who  sat  at  a  table,  richly  and  deliciously  furnished,  but 
with  a  sword  hanging  over  his  head  by  one  single  thread  or 
hair,  surely  had  enough  to  check  his  appetite,  even  against 
all  the  ragings  of  hunger  and  temptations  of  sensuality.  The 
only  argument  that  could  any  way  encourage  his  appetite 
was,  that  possibly  the  sword  might  not  fall;  but  when  his 
reason  should  encounter  it  with  another  question,  What  if  it 
should  fall  ?  and  moreover,  that  pitiful  stay  by  which  it  hung 
should  oppose  the  likelihood  that  it  would,  to  a  mere  possi 
bility  that  it  might  not ;  what  could  the  man  enjoy  or  taste 
of  his  rich  banquet,  with  all  this  doubt  and  horror  working  in 
his  mind  ? 

Though  a  man's  condition  should  be  really  in  itself  never 
so  safe,  yet  an  apprehension  and  surmise  that  it  is  not  safe,  is 
enough  to  make  a  quick  and  a  tender  reason  sufficiently  mis- 


PROV.  x.  9.]     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.      265 

erable.  Let  the  most  acute  and  learned  unbeliever  demon 
strate  that  there  is  no  hell :  and  if  he  can,  he  sins  so  much 
the  more  rationally;  otherwise,  if  he  can  not,  the  case  re 
mains  doubtful  at  least :  but  he  who  sins  obstinately,  does  not 
act  as  if  it  were  so  much  as  doubtful ;  for  if  it  were  certain 
and  evident  to  sense,  he  could  do  no  more ;  but  for  a  man  to 
found  a  confident  practice  upon  a  disputable  principle,  is 
brutishly  to  outrun  his  reason,  and  to  build  ten  times  wider 
than  his  foundation.  In  a  word,  I  look  upon  this  one  short 
consideration,  were  there  no  more,  as  a  sufficient  ground  for 
any  rational  man  to  take  up  his  religion  upon,  and  which  I 
defy  the  subtlest  atheist  in  the  world  solidly  to  answer  or 
confute ;  namely,  That  it  is  good  to  be  sure.  And  so  I  pro 
ceed  to  the 

Third  and  last  supposition,  under  which  the  principles  of 
religion  may,  for  argument  sake,  be  considered ;  and  that  is, 
as  false ;  which  surely  must  reach  the  utmost  thoughts  of  any 
atheist  whatsoever.  Nevertheless  even  upon  this  account 
also,  I  doubt  not  but  to  evince  that  he  who  walks  uprightly 
walks  much  more  surely  than  the  wicked  and  profane  liver ; 
and  that  with  reference  to  the  most  valued  temporal  enjoy 
ments,  such  as  are  reputation,  quietness,  health,  and  the  like, 
which  are  the  greatest  which  this  life  affords,  or  is  desirable 
for.  And, 

1st,  For  reputation  or  credit.  Is  any  one  had  in  greater 
esteem  than  the  just  person ;  who  has  given  the  world  an 
assurance,  by  the  constant  tenor  of  his  practice,  that  he  makes 
a  conscience  of  his  ways ;  that  he  scorns  to  do  an  unworthy 
or  a  base  thing ;  to  lie,  to  defraud,  to  undermine  another's 
interest,  by  any  sinister  and  inferior  arts  ?  And  is  there  any 
thing  which  reflects  a  greater  lustre  upon  a  man's  person, 
than  a  severe  temperance,  and  a  restraint  of  himself  from 
vicious  and  unlawful  pleasures?  Does  any  thing  shine  so 
bright  as  virtue,  and  that  even  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  are 
void  of  it  ?  For  hardly  shall  you  find  any  one  so  bad,  but  he 
desires  the  credit  of  being  thought  what  his  vice  will  not  let 
him  be ;  so  great  a  pleasure  and  convenience  is  it,  to  live 
with  honor  and  a  fair  acceptance  amongst  those  whom  we 
converse  with  ;  and  a  being  without  it  is  not  life,  but  rather 
the  skeleton  or  caput  niortuum  of  life  ;  like  time  without  day, 
or  day  itself  without  the  shining  of  the  sun  to  enliven  it. 


266      The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.   [SERM.  xin. 

On  the  other  side,  is  there  any  thing-  that  more  embitters 
all  the  enjoyments  of  this  life  than  shame  and  reproach? 
Yet  this  is  generally  the  lot  and  portion  of  the  impious  and 
irreligious ;  and  of  some  of  them  more  especially. 

For  how  infamous,  in  the  first  place,  is  the  false,  fraudulent, 
and  unconscionable  person  !  and  how  quickly  is  his  character 
known  !  For  hardly  ever  did  any  man  of  no  conscience  con 
tinue  a  man  of  any  credit  long.  Likewise,  how  odious,  as 
well  as  infamous,  is  such  an  one  !  Especially  if  he  be  arrived 
at  that  consummate  and  robust  degree  of  falsehood,  as  to  play 
in  and  out,  and  show  tricks  with  oaths,  the  sacredest  bonds 
which  the  conscience  of  man  can  be  bound  with ;  how  is  such 
an  one  shunned  and  dreaded,  like  a  walking  pest !  What 
volleys  of  scoffs,  curses,  and  satires,  are  discharged  at  him  ! 
so  that  let  never  so  much  honor  be  placed  upon  him,  it  cleaves 
not  to  him,  but  forthwith  ceases  to  be  honor,  by  being  so 
placed;  no  preferment  can  sweeten  him,  but  the  higher  he 
stands,  the  further  and  wider  he  stinks. 

In  like  manner  for  the  drinker  and  debauched  person :  is 
any  thing  more  the  object  of  scorn  and  contempt  than  such 
an  one  ?  His  company  is  justly  looked  upon  as  a  disgrace : 
and  nobody  can  own  a  friendship  for  him  without  being  an 
enemy  to  himself.  A  drunkard  is,  as  it  were,  outlawed  from 
all  worthy  and  creditable  converse.  Men  abhor,  loathe,  and 
despise  him,  and  would  even  spit  at  him  as  they  meet  him, 
were  it  not  for  fear  that  a  stomach  so  charged  should  some 
thing  more  than  spit  at  them. 

But  not  to  go  over  all  the  several  kinds  of  vice  and  wicked 
ness,  should  we  set  aside  the  consideration  of  the  glories  of  a 
better  world,  and  allow  this  life  for  the  only  place  and  scene 
of  man's  happiness,  yet  surely  Cato  will  be  always  more  hon 
orable  than  Clodius,  and  Cicero  than  Catiline.  Fidelity,  jus 
tice,  and  temperance  will  always  draw  their  own  reward  after 
them,  or  rather  carry  it  with  them,  in  those  marks  of  honor 
which  they  fix  upon  the  persons  who  practice  and  pursue 
them.  It  is  said  of  David  in  1  Chron.  xxix.  28,  that  lie  died 
full  of  days,  riches,  and  honor :  and  there  was  no  need  of  an 
heaven,  to  render  him  in  all  respects  a  much  happier  man 
than  Saul.  But  in  the 

2d  place,  The  virtuous  and  religious  person  walks  upon 


PROV.  x.  9.]     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.      267 

surer  grounds  than  the  vicious  and  irreligious,  in  respect  of 
the  ease,  peace,  and  quietness  which  he  enjoys  in  this  world ; 
and  which  certainly  make  no  small  part  of  human  felicity. 
For  anxiety  and  labor  are  great  ingredients  of  that  curse 
which  sin  has  entailed  upon  fallen  man.  Care  and  toil  came 
into  the  world  with  sin,  and  remain  ever  since  inseparable 
from  it,  both  as  to  its  punishment  and  effect. 

The  service  of  sin  is  perfect  slavery ;  and  he  who  will  pay 
obedience  to  the  commands  of  it  shall  find  it  an  unreasonable 
taskmaster,  and  an  unmeasurable  exactor. 

And  to  represent  the  case  in  some  particulars.  The  am 
bitious  person  must  rise  early  and  sit  up  late,  and  pursue 
his  design  with  a  constant,  indefatigable  attendance ;  he  must 
be  infinitely  patient  and  servile,  and  obnoxious  to  all  the  cross 
humors  of  those  whom  he  expects  to  rise  by ;  he  must  endure 
and  digest  all  sorts  of  affronts ;  adore  the  foot  that  kicks  him, 
and  kiss  the  hand  that  strikes  him :  while,  in  the  mean  time, 
the  humble  and  contented  man  is  virtuous  at  a  much  easier 
rate :  his  virtue  bids  him  sleep  and  take  his  rest,  while  the 
other's  restless  sin  bids  him  sit  up  and  watch.  He  pleases 
himself  innocently  and  easily,  while  the  ambitious  man  at 
tempts  to  please  others  sinfully  and  difficultly,  and  perhaps  in 
the  issue  unsuccessfully  too. 

The  robber,  and  man  of  rapine,  must  run,  and  ride,  and 
use  all  the  dangerous  and  even  desperate  ways  of  escape ; 
and  probably,  after  all,  his  sin  betrays  him  to  a  jail,  and 
from  thence  advances  him  to  the  gibbet :  but  let  him  carry  off 
his  booty  with  as  much  safety  and  success  as  he  can  wish,  yet 
the  innocent  person,  with  never  so  little  of  his  own,  envies 
him  not,  and,  if  he  has  nothing,  fears  him  not. 

Likewise  the  cheat  and  fraudulent  person  is  put  to  a  thou 
sand  shifts  to  palliate  his  fraud,  and  to  be  thought  an  honest 
man :  but  surely  there  can  be  no  greater  labor  than  to  be 
always  dissembling,  and  forced  to  maintain  a  constant  dis 
guise,  there  being  so  many  ways  by  which  a  smothered  truth 
is  apt  to  blaze  and  break  out ;  the  very  nature  of  things  mak 
ing  it  not  more  natural  for  them  to  be,  than  to  appear  as 
they  be.  But  he  who  will  be  really  honest,  just,  and  sincere 
in  his  dealings,  needs  take  no  pains  to  be  thought  so ;  no 
more  than  the  sun  needs  take  any  pains  to  shine,  or,  when 
he  is  up,  to  convince  the  world  that  it  is  day. 


268     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.   [SERM.  xm. 

And  here  again  to  bring  in  the  man  of  luxury  and  intem 
perance  for  his  share  in  the  pain  and  trouble,  as  well  as  in 
the  forementioned  shame  and  infamy  of  his  vice.  Can  any 
toil  or  day-labor  equal  the  fatigue  or  drudgery  which  such  an 
one  undergoes,  while  he  is  continually  pouring  in  draught 
after  draught,  and  cramming  in  morsel  after  morsel,  and  that 
in  spite  of  appetite  and  nature,  till  he  becomes  a  burden 
to  the  very  earth  that  bears  him ;  though  not  so  great  an 
one  to  that,  but  that  (if  possible)  he  is  yet  a  greater  to  him 
self?  1 

And  now,  in  the  last  place,  to  mention  one  sinner  more, 
and  him  a  notable,  leading  sinner  indeed,  to  wit,  the  rebel. 
Can  any  thing  have  more  of  trouble,  hazard,  and  anxiety  in 
it,  than  the  course  which  he  takes  ?  For,  in  the  first  place, 
all  the  evils  of  war  must  unavoidably  be  endured,  as  the  ne 
cessary  means  and  instruments  to  compass  and  give  success 
to  his  traitorous  designs.  In  which,  if  it  is  his  lot  to  be  con 
quered,  he  must  expect  that  vengeance  that  justly  attends  a 
conquered,  disarmed  villain ;  for  when  such  an  one  is  van 
quished,  his  sins  are  always  upon  him.  But  if,  on  the  con 
trary,  he  proves  victorious,  he  will  yet  find  misery  enough  in 
the  distracting  cares  of  settling  an  ungrounded,  odious,  de 
testable  interest,  so  heartily,  and  so  justly  maligned,  abhor 
red,  and  oftentimes  plotted  against ;  so  that,  in  effect,  he  is 
still  in  war,  though  he  has  quitted  the  field.  The  torment 
of  his  suspicion  is  great,  and  the  courses  he  must  take  to 
quiet  his  jealous,  suspicious  mind,  infinitely  troublesome  and 
vexatious. 

But  in  the  mean  time,  the  labor  of  obedience,  loyalty,  and 
subjection  is  no  more,  but  for  a  man  honestly  and  discreetly 
to  sit  still,  and  to  enjoy  what  he  has,  under  the  protection  of 
the  laws.  And  when  such  an  one  is  in  his  lowest  condition, 
he  is  yet  high  and  happy  enough  to  despise  and  pity  the  most 
prosperous  rebel  in  the  world :  even  those  famous  ones  of 
forty-one  (with  all  due  respect  to  their  flourishing  relations 
be  it  spoke)  not  excepted.  In  the 

Third  and  last  place,  the  religious  person  walks  upon  surer 
grounds  than  the  irreligious,  in  respect  of  the  very  health  of 
his  body.  Virtue  is  a  friend  and  an  help  to  nature  ;  but  it  is 

*  See  above,  pp.  14,  15. 


PEOV.  x.  9.]      The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.     269 

vice  and  luxury  that  destroys  it,  and  the  diseases  of  intem 
perance  are  the  natural  product  of  the  sins  of  intemperance. 
Whereas,  on  the  other  side,  a  temperate,  innocent  use  of 
the  creature,  never  casts  any  one  into  a  fever  or  a  surfeit. 
Chastity  makes  no  work  for  a  chirurgeon,  nor  ever  ends  in 
rottenness  of  hones.  Sin  is  the  fruitful  parent  of  distempers, 
and  ill  lives  occasion  good  physicians.  Seldom  shall  one  see 
in  cities,  courts,  and  rich  families,  (where  men  live  plentifully, 
and  eat  and  drink  freely,)  that  perfect  health,  that  athletic 
soundness  and  vigor  of  constitution,  which  is  commonly  seen 
in  the  country,  in  poor  houses  and  cottages,  where  nature  is 
their  cook,  and  necessity  their  caterer,  and  where  they  have 
no  other  doctor  hut  the  sun  and  the  fresh  air,  and  that  such 
an  one  as  never  sends  them  to  the  apothecary.  It  has  heen 
observed  in  the  earlier  ages  of  the  church,  that  none  lived  such 
healthful  and  long  lives  as  monks  and  hermits,  who  had  se 
questered  themselves  from  the  pleasures  and  plenties  of  the 
world,  to  a  constant  ascetic  course,  of  the  severest  abstinence 
and  devotion. 

Nor  is  excess  the  only  thing  by  which  sin  mauls  and  breaks 
men  in  their  health,  and  the  comfortable  enjoyment  of  them 
selves  thereby,  but  many  are  also  brought  to  a  very  ill  and 
languishing  habit  of  body  by  mere  idleness ;  and  idleness  is 
both  itself  a  great  sin,  and  the  cause  of  many  more.  The 
husbandman  returns  from  the  field,  and  from  manuring  his 
ground,  strong  and  healthy,  because  innocent  and  laborious; 
you  will  find  no  diet-drinks,  no  boxes  of  pills,  nor  gallipots, 
amongst  his  provisions  ;  no,  he  neither  speaks  nor  lives 
French,  he  is  not  so  much  a  gentleman,  forsooth.  His 
meals  are  coarse  and  short,  his  employment  warrantable,  his 
sleep  certain  and  refreshing,  neither  interrupted  with  the 
lashes  of  a  guilty  mind,  nor  the  aches  of  a  crazy  body.  And 
when  old  age  comes  upon  him,  it  comes  alone,  bringing  no 
other  evil  with  it  but  itself :  but  when  it  comes  to  wait  upon 
a  great  and  worshipful  sinner,  (who  for  many  years  together 
has  had  the  reputation  of  eating  well  and  doing  ill,)  it  comes 
(as  it  ought  to  do,  to  a  person  of  such  quality)  attended  with 
a  long  train  and  retinue  of  rheums,  coughs,  catarrhs,  and 
dropsies,  together  with  many  painful  girds  and  achings, 
which  are  at  least  called  the  gout.  How  does  such  an  one 


270     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.     [SERM.  xni. 

go  about,  or  is  carried  rather,  with  his  body  bending  inward, 
his  head  shaking,  and  his  eyes  always  watering  (instead  of 
weeping)  for  the  sins  of  his  ill-spent  youth.  In  a  word,  old 
age  seizes  upon  such  a  person,  like  fire  upon  a  rotten  house ; 
it  was  rotten  before,  and  must  have  fallen  of  itself;  so  that  it 
is  no  more  but  one  ruin  preventing  another. 

And  thus  I  have  shown  the  fruits  and  effects  of  sin  upon 
men  in  this  world.  But  perad venture  it  will  be  replied,  that 
there  are  many  sinners  who  escape  all  these  calamities,  and 
neither  labor  under  any  shame  or  disrepute,  any  unquietness 
of  condition,  or  more  than  ordinary  distemper  of  body,  but 
pass  their  days  with  as  great  a  portion  of  honor,  ease,  and 
health,  as  any  other  men  whatsoever.  But  to  this  I  answer, 

First,  That  those  sinners  who  are  in  such  a  temporally 
happy  condition,  owe  it  not  to  their  sins,  but  wholly  to  their 
luck,  and  a  benign  chance  that  they  are  so.  Providence  often 
disposes  of  things  by  a  method  beside  and  above  the  discourses 
of  man's  reason. 

Secondly,  That  the  number  of  those  sinners,  who  by  their 
sins  have  been  directly  plunged  into  all  the  forementioned 
evils,  is  incomparably  greater  than  the  number  of  those 
who,  by  the  singular  favor  of  providence,  have  escaped  them. 
And, 

Thirdly  and  lastly,  That  notwithstanding  all  this,  sin  has 
yet  in  itself  a  natural  tendency  to  bring  men  under  all  these 
evils ;  and,  if  persisted  in,  will  infallibly  end  in  them,  unless 
hindered  by  some  unusual  accident  or  other,  which  no  man, 
acting  rationally,  can  steadily  build  upon.  It  is  not  impos 
sible  but  a  man  may  practice  a  sin  secretly  to  his  dying  day ; 
but  it  is  ten  thousand  to  one,  if  the  practice  be  constant,  but 
that  some  time  or  other  it  will  be  discovered ;  and  then  the 
effect  of  sin  discovered,  must  be  shame  and  confusion  to  the 
sinner.  It  is  possible  also,  that  a  man  may  be  an  old  health 
ful  epicure ;  but  I  affirm  also,  that  it  is  next  to  a  miracle,  if 
he  be  so,  and  the  like  is  to  be  said  of  the  several  instances  of 
sin,  hitherto  produced  by  us.  In  short,  nothing  can  step  be 
tween  them  and  misery  in  this  world,  but  a  very  great, 
strange,  and  unusual  chance,  which  none  will  presume  of  who 
talks  surely. 

And  so,  I  suppose,  that  religion  can  not  possibly  be  enforced 


PROV.  x.  9.]     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.      271 

(even  in  the  judgment  of  its  best  friends  and  most  professed 
enemies)  by  any  further  arguments  than  what  have  been  pro 
duced,  (how  much  better  soever  the  said  arguments  may  be 
managed  by  abler  hands.)  For  I  have  shown  and  proved, 
that,  whether  the  principles  of  it  be  certain  or  but  probable, 
nay,  though  supposed  absolutely  false,  yet  a  man  is  sure  of 
that  happiness  in  the  practice,  which  he  can  not  be  in  the 
neglect  of  it ;  and  consequently,  that,  though  he  were  really  a 
speculative  atheist,  (which  there  is  great  reason  to  believe 
that  none  perfectly  are,)  yet  if  he  would  but  proceed  ration 
ally,  that  is,  if  (according  to  his  own  measures  of  reason)  he 
would  but  love  himself,  he  could  not  however  be  a  practical 
atheist,  nor  live  without  God  in  this  world,  whether  or  no  he 
expected  to  be  rewarded  by  him  in  another. 

And  now,  to  make  some  application  of  the  foregoing  dis 
course,  we  may,  by  an  easy  but  sure  deduction,  conclude  and 
gather  from  it  these  two  things  : 

First,  That  that  profane,  atheistical,  epicurean  rabble,  whom 
the  whole  nation  so  rings  of,  and  who  have  lived  so  much  to 
the  defiance  of  God,  the  dishonor  of  mankind,  and  the  dis 
grace  of  the  age  which  they  are  cast  upon,  are  not  indeed 
(what  they  are  pleased  to  think  and  vote  themselves)  the 
wisest  men  in  the  world ;  for  in  matters  of  choice,  no  man 
can  be  wise  in  any  course  or  practice  in  which  he  is  not  safe 
too.  But  can  these  high  assumers,  and  pretenders  to  reason, 
prove  themselves  so  amidst  all  those  liberties  and  latitudes  of 
practice  which  they  take  ?  Can  they  make  it  out  against  the 
common  sense  and  opinion  of  all  mankind,  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  a  future  estate  of  misery  for  such  as  have  lived 
ill  here  ?  Or  can  they  persuade  themselves,  that  their  own 
particular  reason,  denying  or  doubting  of  it,  ought  to  be 
relied  upon  as  a  surer  argument  of  truth  than  the  universal, 
united  reason  of  all  the  world  besides  affirming  it?  Every 
fool  may  believe  and  pronounce  confidently;  but  wise  men 
will,  in  matters  of  discourse,  conclude  firmly,  and,  in  matters 
of  practice,  act  surely :  and  if  these  will  do  so  too  in  the  case 
now  before  us,  they  must  prove  it,  not  only  probable,  (which 
yet  they  can  never  do,)  but  also  certain,  and  past  all  doubt, 
that  there  is  no  hell,  nor  place  of  torment  for  the  wicked ;  or 
at  least  that  they  themselves,  notwithstanding  all  their  vil- 


272     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.     [SEEM.  xm. 

lainous  and  licentious  practices,  are  not  to  be  reckoned  of  that 
number  and  character,  but  that,  with  a  non  obstante  to  all 
their  revels,  their  profaneness,  and  scandalous  debaucheries 
of  all  sorts,  they  continue  virtuosos  still,  and  are  that  in 
truth  which  the  world  in  favor  and  fashion  (or  rather  by  an 
antiphrasis)  is  pleased  to  call  them. 

In  the  'meantime,  it  can  not  but  be  matter  of  just  indigna 
tion  to  all  knowing  and  good  men,  to  see  a  company  of  lewd, 
shallow-brained  huffs,  making  atheism  and  contempt  of  re 
ligion  the  sole  badge  and  character  of  wit,  gallantry,  and 
true  discretion ;  and  then  over  their  pots  and  pipes,  claiming 
and  engrossing  all  these  wholly  to  themselves ;  magisterially 
censuring  the  wisdom  of  all  antiquity,  scoffing  at  all  piety, 
and,  as  it  were,  new  modeling  the  whole  world.  When 
yet  such  as  have  had  opportunity  to  sound  these  braggers 
throughly,  by  having  sometimes  endured  the  penance  of  their 
sottish  company,  have  found  them  in  converse  so  empty  and 
insipid,  in  discourse  so  trifling  and  contemptible,  that  it  is 
impossible  but  that  they  should  give  a  credit  and  an  honor 
to  whatsoever  and  whomsoever  they  speak  against :  they  are 
indeed  such  as  seem  wholly  incapable  of  entertaining  any 
design  above  the  present  gratification  of  their  palates,  and 
whose  very  souls  and  thoughts  rise  no  higher  than  their 
throats ;  but  yet  withal  of  such  a  clamorous  and  provoking 
impiety,  that  they  are  enough  to  make  the  nation  like  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah  in  their  punishment,  as  they  have  already 
made  it  too  like  them  in  their  sins.  Certain  it  is,  that  blas 
phemy  and  irreligion  have  grown  to  that  daring  height  here 
of  late  years,  that  had  men  in  any  sober  civilized  heathen 
nation  spoke  or  done  half  so  much  in  contempt  of  their  false 
gods  and  religion,  as  some  in  our  days  and  nation,  wearing 
the  name  of  Christians,  have  spoke  and  done  against  God  and 
Christ,  they  would  have  been  infallibly  burnt  at  a  stake,  as 
monsters  and  public  enemies  of  society. 

The  truth  is,  the  persons  here  reflected  upon  are  of  such 
a  peculiar  stamp  of  impiety,  that  they  seem  to  be  a  set  of 
fellows  got  together,  and  formed  into  a  kind  of  diabolical 
society,  for  the  finding  out  new  experiments  in  vice ;  and 
therefore  they  laugh  at  the  dull,  unexperienced,  obsolete 
sinners  of  former  times;  and  scorning  to  keep  themselves 


PROV.  x.  9.]     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.     273 

within  the  common,  beaten,  broad  way  to  hell,  by  being-  vi 
cious  only  at  the  low  rate  of  example  and  imitation,  they  are 
for  searching  out  other  ways  and  latitudes,  and  obliging1  pos 
terity  with  unheard  of  inventions  and  discoveries  in  sin ; 
resolving  herein  to  admit  of  no  other  measure  of  good  and 
evil  but  the  judgment  of  sensuality,  as  those  who  prepare 
matters  to  their  hands  allow  no  other  measure  of  the  phi 
losophy  and  truth  of  things  but  the  sole  judgment  of  sense. 
And  these,  forsooth,  are  our  great  sages,  and  those  who  must 
pass  for  the  only  shrewd,  thinking,  and  inquisitive  men  of 
the  age ;  and  such,  as  by  a  long,  severe,  and  profound  specu 
lation  of  nature,  have  redeemed  themselves  from  the  pedantry 
of  being  conscientious  and  living  virtuously,  and  from  such 
old-fashioned  principles  and  creeds  as  tie  up  the  minds  of 
some  narrow  -  spirited,  uncomprehensive  zealots,  who  know 
not  the  world,  nor  understand  that  he  only  is  the  truly  wise 
man  who,  per  fas  et  nefas,  gets  as  much  as  he  can. 

But  for  all  this,  let  atheists  and  sensualists  satisfy  them 
selves  as  they  are  able.  The  former  of  which  will  find,  that 
as  long  as  reason  keeps  her  ground,  religion  neither  can  nor 
will  lose  hers.  And  for  the  sensual  epicure,  he  also  will  find, 
that  there  is  a  certain  living  spark  within  him,  which  all  the 
drink  he  can  pour  in  will  never  be  able  to  quench  or  put  out ; 
nor  will  his  rotten  abused  body  have  it  in  its  power  to  convey 
any  putrefying,  consuming,  rotting  quality  to  the  soul :  no, 
there  is  no  drinking,  or  swearing,  or  ranting,  or  fluxing  a 
soul  out  of  its  immortality.  But  that  must  and  will  survive 
and  abide,  in  spite  of  death  and  the  grave ;  and  live  forever 
to  comdnee  such  wretches  to  their  eternal  woe,  that  the  so 
much  repeated  ornament  and  flourish  of  their  former  speeches 
(God  damn  'em)  was  commonly  the  truest  word  they  spoke, 
though  least  believed  by  them  while  they  spoke  it. 

2dly,  The  other  thing  deducible  from  the  foregoing  partic 
ulars  shall  be  to  inform  us  of  the  way  of  attaining  to  that 
excellent  privilege,  so  justly  valued  by  those  who  have  it,  and 
so  much  talked  of  by  those  who  have  it  not ;  which  is  assur 
ance.  Assurance  is  properly  that  persuasion  or  confidence 
which  a  man  takes  up  of  the  pardon  of  his  sins,  and  his  in 
terest  in  God's  favor,  upon  such  grounds  and  terms  as  the 
scripture  lays  down.  But  now,  since  the  scripture  promises 

VOL.  I.  18 


274     The  Practice  of  Religion  enforced  by  Reason.     [SERM.  xin. 

eternal  happiness  and  pardon  of  sin,  upon  the  sole  condition 
of  faith  and  sincere  obedience,  it  is  evident  that  he  only  can 
plead  a  title  to  such  a  pardon,  whose  conscience  impartially 
tells  him  that  he  has  performed  the  required  condition.  And 
this  is  the  only  rational  assurance  which  a  man  can  with  any 
safety  rely  or  rest  himself  upon. 

He  who  in  this  case  would  believe  surely,  must  first  walk 
surely ;  and  to  do  so  is  to  walk  uprightly.  And  what  that 
is,  we  have  sufficiently  marked  out  to  us  in  those  plain  and 
legible  lines  of  duty,  requiring  us  to  demean  ourselves  to 
God  humbly  and  devoutly ;  to  our  governors  obediently ;  and 
to  our  neighbors  justly ;  and  to  ourselves  soberly  and  temper 
ately.  All  other  pretenses  being  infinitely  vain  in  themselves 
and  fatal  in  their  consequences. 

It  was  indeed  the  way  of  many  in  the  late  times,  to  bolster 
up  their  crazy,  doting  consciences,  with  (I  know  not  what) 
odd  confidences,  founded  upon  inward  whispers  of  the  Spirit, 
stories  of  something  which  they  called  conversion  and  marks 
of  predestination  :  all  of  them  (as  they  understood  them) 
mere  delusions,  trifles,  and  fig-leaves ;  and  such  as  would  be 
sure  to  fall  off  and  leave  them  naked,  before  that  fiery  tri 
bunal  which  knows  no  other  way  of  judging  men  but  accord 
ing  to  their  works. 

Obedience  and  upright  walking  are  such  substantial,  vital 
parts  of  religion  as,  if  they  be  wanting,  can  never  be  made 
up,  or  commuted  for,  by  any  formalities  of  fantastic  looks  or 
language.  And  the  great  question,  when  we  come  hereafter 
to  be  judged,  will  not  be,  How  demurely  have  you  looked? 
or,  How  boldly  have  you  believed  ?  With  what  length  have 
you  prayed  ?  and,  With  what  loudness  and  vehemence  have 
you  preached  ?  But,  How  holily  have  you  lived  ?  and,  How 
uprightly  have  you  walked?  For  this,  and  this  only,  (with 
the  merits  of  Christ's  righteousness,)  will  come  into  account 
before  that  great  Judge  who  will  pass  sentence  upon  every 
man  according  to  what  he  has  done  here  in  the  flesh,  whether 
it  be  good,  or  whether  it  be  evil ;  and  there  is  no  respect  of 
persons  with  him. 

To  whom  therefore  be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due, 
all  praise,  might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for 
evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  XIV. 


A    SERMON   PREACHED   BEFORE   THE   UNIVERSITY,    AT 
CHRIST    CHURCH,    OXON,  1664. 


JOHN  xv.  15. — Henceforth  1  call  you  not  servants;  for  the  servant  knoweth  not  what 
his  lord  doeth :  but  I  have  called  you  friends  ;  for  all  things  that  1  have  heard  of  my 
Father  I  have  made  known  unto  you. 

WE  have  here  an  account  of  Christ's  friendship  to  his 
disciples ;  that  is,  we  have  the  best  of  things  repre 
sented  in  the  greatest  of  examples.  In  other  men  we  see 
the  excellency,  but  in  Christ  the  divinity  of  friendship.  By 
our  baptism  and  church-communion  we  are  made  one  body 
with  Christ ;  but  by  this  we  become  one  soul. 

Love  is  the  greatest  of  human  affections,  and  friendship  is 
the  noblest  and  most  refined  improvement  of  love ;  a  quality 
of  the  largest  compass.  And  it  is  here  admirable  to  observe 
the  ascending  gradation  of  the  love  which  Christ  bore  to  his 
disciples.  The  strange  and  superlative  greatness  of  which 
will  appear  from  those  several  degrees  of  kindness  that  it 
has  manifested  to  man  in  the  several  periods  of  his  condi 
tion.  As, 

1st,  If  we  consider  him  antecedently  to  his  creation,  while 
he  yet  lay  in  the  barren  womb  of  nothing,  and  only  in  the 
number  of  possibilities  :  and  consequently  could  have  nothing 
to  recommend  him  to  Christ's  affection,  nor  show  any  thing 
lovely,  but  what  he  should  afterwards  receive  from  the  stamp 
of  a  preventing  love.  Yet  even  then  did  the  love  of  Christ 
begin  to  work,  and  to  commence  in  the  first  emanations  and 
purposes  of  goodness  towards  man ;  designing  to  provide 
matter  for  itself  to  work  upon,  to  create  its  own  object,  and, 
like  the  sun  in  the  production  of  some  animals,  first  to  give  a 
being,  and  then  to  shine  upon  it. 


276  Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.     [SERM.  xiv. 

2dly,  Let  us  take  the  love  of  Christ  as  directing  itself  to 
man  actually  created  and  brought  into  the  world ;  and  so  all 
those  glorious  endowments  of  human  nature  in  its  original 
state  and  innocence,  were  so  many  demonstrations  of  the 
munificent  goodness  of  him  by  whom  God  first  made,  as  well 
as  afterwards  redeemed  the  world.  There  was  a  consult  of 
the  whole  Trinity  for  the  making  of  man,  that  so  he  might 
shine  as  a  masterpiece,  not  only  of  the  art,  but  also  of  the 
kindness  of  his  Creator;  with  a  noble  and  a  clear  under 
standing,  a  rightly  disposed  will,  and  a  train  of  affections 
regular  and  obsequious,  and  perfectly  conformable  to  the  dic 
tates  of  that  high  and  divine  principle,  right  reason.  So 
that,  upon  the  whole  matter,  he  stepped  forth,  not  only  the 
work  of  God's  hands,  but  also  the  copy  of  his  perfections ;  a 
kind  of  image  or  representation  of  the  Deity  in  small.  Infin 
ity  contracted  into  flesh  and  blood ;  and  (as  I  may  so  speak) 
the  preludium  and  first  essay  towards  the  incarnation  of  the 
divine  nature.  But, 

3dly  and  lastly,  Let  us  look  upon  man,  not  only  as  created, 
and  brought  into  the  world,  with  all  these  great  advantages 
superadded  to  his  being,  but  also  as  depraved,  and  fallen 
from  them,  as  an  outlaw  and  a  rebel,  and  one  that  could  plead 
a  title  to  nothing  but  to  the  highest  severities  of  a  sin-re 
venging  justice.  Yet  even  in  this  estate  also,  the  boundless 
love  of  Christ  began  to  have  warm  thoughts  and  actings  to 
wards  so  wretched  a  creature,  at  this  time  not  only  not  ami 
able,  but  highly  odious. 

While  indeed  man  was  yet  uncreated  and  unborn,  though 
he  had  no  positive  perfection  to  present  and  set  him  off  to 
Christ's  view,  yet  he  was  at  least  negatively  clear :  and,  like 
unwritten  paper,  though  it  has  no  draughts  to  entertain,  yet 
neither  has  it  any  blots  to  offend  the  eye ;  but  is  white,  and 
innocent,  and  fair  for  an  after-inscription.  But  man,  once 
fallen,  was  nothing  but  a  great  blur ;  nothing  but  a  total  uni 
versal  pollution,  and  not  to  be  reformed  by  any  thing  under  a 
new  creation. 

Yet,  see  here  the  ascent  and  progress  of  Christ's  love.  For 
first,  if  we  consider  man  in  such  a  loathsome  and  provoking 
condition,  was  it  not  love  enough  that  he  was  spared  and 
permitted  to  enjoy  a  being?  since,  not  to  put  a  traitor  to 


JOHN  xv.  15.]     Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.  277 

death  is  a  singular  mercy.  But  then,  not  only  to  continue 
his  being1,  but  to  adorn  it  with  privilege,  and  from  the  num 
ber  of  subjects  to  take  him  into  the  retinue  of  servants,  this 
was  yet  a  greater  love.  For  every  one  that  may  be  fit  to  be 
tolerated  in  a  prince's  dominions,  is  not  therefore  fit  to  be 
admitted  into  his  family ;  nor  is  any  prince's  court  to  be  com 
mensurate  to  his  kingdom.  But  then  further,  to  advance 
him  from  a  servant  to  a  friend ;  from  only  living  in  his  house, 
to  lying  in  his  bosom ;  this  is  an  instance  of  favor  above  the 
rate  of  a  created  goodness,  an  act  for  none  but  the  Son  of 
God,  who  came  to  do  every  thing  in  miracle,  to  love  super- 
uaturally,  and  to  pardon  infinitely,  and  even  to  lay  down  the 
sovereign,  while  he  assumed  the  savior. 

The  text  speaks  the  winning  behavior  and  gracious  con 
descension  of  Christ  to  his  disciples,  in  owning  them  for  his 
friends,  who  were  more  than  sufficiently  honored  by  being 
his  servants.  For  still  these  words  of  his  must  be  under 
stood,  not  according  to  the  bare  rigor  of  the  letter,  but  ac 
cording  to  the  arts  and  allowances  of  expression :  not  as  if 
the  relation  of  friends  had  actually  discharged  them  from 
that  of  servants ;  but  that  of  the  two  relations,  Christ  was 
pleased  to  overlook  the  meaner,  and  without  any  mention  of 
that,  to  entitle  and  denominate  them  solely  from  the  more 
honorable. 

For  the  further  illustration  of  which,  we  must  premise  this, 
as  a  certain  and  fundamental  truth,  that,  so  far  as  service  im 
ports  duty  and  subjection,  all  created  beings,  whether  men  or 
angels,  bear  the  necessary  and  essential  relation  of  servants 
to  God,  and  consequently  to  Christ,  who  is  God  blessed  for 
ever  :  and  this  relation  is  so  necessary,  that  God  himself  can 
not  dispense  with  it,  nor  discharge  a  rational  creature  from 
it :  for  although  consequentially  indeed  he  may  do  so,  by  the 
annihilation  of  such  a  creature,  and  the  taking  away  his 
being,  yet,  supposing  the  continuance  of  his  being,  God  can 
not  effect  that  a  creature  which  has  his  being  from,  and  his 
dependence  upon,  him,  should  not  stand  obliged  to  do  him 
the  utmost  service  that  his  nature  enables  him  to  do.  For  to 
suppose  the  contrary,  would  be  irregular,  and  opposite  to  the 
law  of  nature,  which,  consisting  in  a  fixed  unalterable  rela 
tion  of  one  nature  to  another,  is  upon  that  account,  even  by 


278  Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.     [SERM.  xiv. 

God  himself,  indispensable.  Forasmuch  as  having  once  made 
a  creature,  he  can  not  cause  that  that  creature  should  not 
owe  a  natural  relation  to  his  Maker,  both  of  subjection  and 
dependence,  (the  very  essence  of  a  creature  importing  so 
much,)  to  which  relation  if  he  behaves  himself  unsuitably,  he 
goes  contrary  to  his  nature,  and  the  laws  of  it ;  which  God, 
the  author  of  nature,  can  not  warrant  without  being  con 
trary  to  himself.  From  all  which  it  follows,  that  even  in  our 
highest  estate  of  sanctity  and  privilege,  we  yet  retain  the  un 
avoidable  obligation  of  Christ's  servants ;  though  still  with 
an  advantage  as  great  as  the  obligation,  where  the  service  is 
perfect  freedom :  so  that,  with  reference  to  such  a  Lord,  to 
serve,  and  to  be  free,  are  terms  not  consistent  only,  but  abso 
lutely  equivalent. 

Nevertheless,  since  the  name  of  servants  has  of  old  been 
reckoned  to  imply  a  certain  meanness  of  mind,  as  well  as 
lowness  of  condition,  and  the  ill  qualities  of  many  who  served 
have  rendered  the  condition  itself  not  very  creditable  ;  espe 
cially  in  those  ages  and  places  of  the  world  in  which  -the 
condition  of  servants  was  extremely  different  from  what  it  is 
now  amongst  us;  they  being  generally  slaves,  and  such  as 
were  bought  and  sold  for  money,  and  consequently  reckoned 
but  amongst  the  other  goods  and  chattels  of  their  lord  or 
master :  it  was  for  this  reason  that  Christ  thought  fit  to  waive 
the  appellation  of  servant  here,  as,  according  to  the  common 
use  of  it  amongst  the  Jews,  (and  at  that  time  most  nations 
besides,)  importing  these  three  qualifications,  which,  being 
directly  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  were  by  no 
means  to  be  allowed  in  any  of  Christ's  disciples. 

1st,  The  first  whereof  is  that  here  mentioned  in  the  text ; 
viz.,  an  utter  unacquaintance  with  his  master's  designs,  in 
these  words :  The  servant  knows  not  what  his  lord  doeth.  For 
seldom  does  any  man  of  sense  make  his  servant  his  coun 
sellor,  for  fear  of  making  him  his  governor  too.  A  master 
for  the  most  part  keeps  his  choicest  goods  locked  up  from  his 
servant,  but  much  more  his  mind.  A  servant  is  to  know 
nothing  but  his  master's  commands ;  and  in  these  also,  not 
to  know  the  reason  of  them. 

Neither  is  he  to  stand  aloof  off  from  his  counsels  only,  but 
sometimes  from  his  presence  also ;  and  so  far  as  decency  is 


JOHN  xv.  15.]     Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.  279 

duty,  it  is  sometimes  his  duty  to  avoid  him.  But  the  voice 
of  Christ  in  his  gospel  is,  Come  to  me  all  ye  that  are  heavy 
laden.  The  condition  of  a  servant  staves  him  off  to  a  dis 
tance  ;  but  the  gospel  speaks  nothing  but  allurement,  attract- 
ives,  and  invitation.  The  magisterial  law  bids  the  person 
under  it,  Go,  and  lie  must  go  ;  but  the  gospel  says  to  every 
believer,  Come,  and  he  cometh.  A  servant  dwells  remote  from 
all  knowledge  of  his  lord's  purposes.  He  lives  as  a  kind  of 
foreigner  under  the  same  roof;  a  domestic,  and  yet  a  stranger 
too. 

2dly,  The  name  of  servant  imports  a  slavish  and  degener- 
ous  awe  of  mind ;  as  it  is  in  Rom.  viii.  5,  God  has  not  given 
us  the  spirit  of  bondage  again  to  fear.  He  who  serves,  has 
still  the  low  and  ignoble  restraints  of  dread  upon  his  spirit ; 
which  in  business,  and  even  in  the  midst  of  action,  cramps 
and  ties  up  his  activity.  He  fears  his  master's  anger,  but 
designs  not  his  favor.  Quicken  me,  says  David,  with  thy  free 
spirit.  It  is  the  freedom  of  the  spirit  that  gives  worth  and 
life  to  the  performance.  But  a  servant  commonly  is  less  free 
in  mind  than  in  condition  ;  his  very  will  seems  to  be  in  bonds 
and  shackles,  and  desire  itself  under  a  kind  of  durance  and 
captivity.  In  all  that  a  servant  does,  he  is  scarce  a  volun 
tary  agent,  but  when  he  serves  himself :  all  his  services  other 
wise,  not  flowing  naturally  from  propensity  and  inclination, 
but  being  drawn  and  forced  from  him  by  terror  and  coactiou. 
In  any  work  he  is  put  to,  let  the  master  withdraw  his  eye, 
and  he  will  quickly  take  off  his  hand. 

3dly,  The  appellation  of  servant  imports  a  mercenary  tem 
per  and  disposition ;  and  denotes  such  an  one  as  makes  his 
reward  both  the  sole  motive  and  measure  of  his  obedience. 
He  neither  loves  the  thing  commanded,  nor  the  person  who 
commands  it,  but  is  wholly  and  only  intent  upon  his  own 
emolument.  All  kindnesses  done  him,  and  all  that  is  given 
him,  over  and  above  what  is  strictly  just  and  his  due,  makes 
him  rather  worse  than  better.  And  this  is  an  observation 
that  never  fails,  where  any  one  has  so  much  bounty  and  so 
little  wit  as  to  make  the  experiment.  For  a  servant  rarely 
or  never  ascribes  what  he  receives  to  the  mere  liberality  and 
generosity  of  the  donor,  but  to  his  own  worth  and  merit,  and 
to  the  need  which  he  supposes  there  is  of  him ;  which  opinion 


280  Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.    [SERM.  xiv. 

alone  will  be  sure  to  make  any  one  of  a  mean  servile  spirit, 
insolent  and  intolerable. 

And  thus  I  have  shown  what  the  qualities  of  a  servant 
usually  are,  (or  at  least  were  in  that  country  where  our 
Saviour  lived  and  conversed,  when  he  spake  these  words,) 
which,  no  doubt,  were  the  cause  why  he  would  not  treat  his 
disciples  (whom  he  designed  to  be  of  a  quite  contrary  dispo 
sition)  with  this  appellation. 

Come  we  therefore  now,  in  the  next  place,  to  show  what  is 
included  in  that  great  character  and  privilege  which  he  was 
pleased  to  vouchsafe  both  to  them,  and  to  all  believers,  in 
calling  and  accounting  them  his  friends.  It  includes  in  it,  I 
conceive,  these  following  things : 

1.  Freedom  of  access.  House,  and  heart,  and  all,  are  open 
for  the  reception  of  a  friend.  The  entrance  is  not  beset 
with  solemn  excuses  and  lingering  delays ;  but  the  passage  is 
easy,  and  free  from  all  obstruction,  and  not  only  admits,  but 
even  invites  the  comer.  How  different,  for  the  most  part,  is 
the  same  man  from  himself,  as  he  sustains  the  person  of  a 
magistrate,  and  as  he  sustains  that  of  a  friend  !  As  a  magis 
trate  or  great  officer,  he  locks  himself  up  from  all  approaches 
by  the  multiplied  formalities  of  attendance,  by  the  distance 
of  ceremony  and  grandeur ;  so  many  hungry  officers  to  be 
passed  through,  so  many  thresholds  to  be  saluted,  so  many 
days  to  be  spent  in  waiting1  for  an  opportunity  of,  perhaps, 
but  half  an  hour's  converse. 

But  when  he  is  to  be  entertained,  whose  friendship,  not 
whose  business,  demands  an  entrance,  those  formalities  pres 
ently  disappear,  all  impediments  vanish,  and  the  rigors  of  the 
magistrate  submit  to  the  endearments  of  a  friend.  He  opens 
and  yields  himself  to  the  man  of  business  with  difficulty  and 
reluctancy,  but  offers  himself  to  the  visits  of  a  friend  with 
facility,  and  all  the  meeting  readiness  of  appetite  and  desire. 
The  reception  of  one  is  as  different  from  the  admission  of  the 
other  as  when  the  earth  falls  open  under  the  incisions  of  the 
plow,  and  when  it  gapes  and  greedily  opens  itself  to  drink 
in  the  dew  of  heaven,  or  the  refreshments  of  a  shower :  or 
there  is  as  much  difference  between  them  as  when  a  man 
reaches  out  his  arms  to  take  up  a  burden,  and  when  he 
reaches  them  out  to  embrace. 


JOHN  xv.  15.]    Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.  281 

It  is  confessed  that  the  vast  distance  that  sin  had  put  be 
tween  the  offending  creature  and  the  offended  Creator,  re 
quired  the  help  of  some  great  umpire  and  intercessor,  to  open 
him  a  new  way  of  access  to  God ;  and  this  Christ  did  for  us 
as  Mediator.  But  we  read  of  no  mediator  to  bring  us  to 
Christ ;  for  though,  being  God  by  nature,  he  dwells  in  the 
hight  of  majesty,  and  the  inaccessible  glories  of  a  Deity, 
yet,  to  keep  off  all  strangeness  between  himself  and  the  sons 
of  men,  he  has  condescended  to  a  cognation  and  consanguin 
ity  with  us,  he  has  clothed  himself  with  flesh  and  blood, 
that  so  he  might  subdue  his  glories  to  a  possibility  of  human 
converse.  And  therefore  he  that  denies  himself  an  immediate 
access  to  Christ,  affronts  him  in  the  great  relation  of  a  friend, 
and  as  opening  himself  both  to  our  persons  and  to  our  wants, 
with  the  greatest  tenderness  and  the  freest  invitation.  There 
is  none  who  acts  a  friend  by  a  deputy,  or  can  be  familiar  by 
proxy. 

2.  The  second  privilege  of  friendship  is  a  favorable  con 
struction  of  all  passages  between  friends,  that  are  not  of  so 
high  and  so  malign  a  nature  as  to  dissolve  the  relation.  Love 
covers  a  multitude  of  sins ,  says  the  apostle,  1  Pet.  iv.  8.  When 
a  scar  can  not  be  taken  away,  the  next  kind  office  is  to  hide 
it.  Love  is  never  so  blind  as  when  it  is  to  spy  faults.  It  is 
like  the  painter,  who,  being  to  draw  the  picture  of  a  friend 
having  a  blemish  in  one  eye,  would  picture  only  the  other 
side  of  his  face.  It  is  a  noble  and  a  great  thing  to  cover  the 
blemishes  and  to  excuse  the  failings  of  a  friend ;  to  draw  a 
curtain  before  his  stains,  and  to  display  his  perfections ;  to 
bury  his  weaknesses  in  silence,  but  to  proclaim  his  virtues 
upon  the  house-top.  It  is  an  imitation  of  the  charities  of 
heaven,  which,  when  the  creature  lies  prostrate  in  the  weak 
ness  of  sleep  and  weariness,  spreads  the  covering  of  night 
and  darkness  over  it,  to  conceal  it  in  that  condition ;  but  as 
soon  as  our  spirits  are  refreshed,  and  nature  returns  to  its 
morning  vigor,  God  then  bids  the  sun  rise,  and  the  day  shine 
upon  us,  both  to  advance  and  to  show  that  activity. 

It  is  the  ennobling  office  of  the  understanding  to  correct 
the  fallacious  and  mistaken  reports  of  sense,  and  to  assure  us 
that  the  staff  in  the  water  is  straight,  though  our  eye  would 
tell  us  it  is  crooked.  So  it  is  the  excellency  of  friendship  to 


282  Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.     [SERM.  xiv. 

rectify,  or  at  least  to  qualify,  the  malignity  of  those  surmises 
that  would  misrepresent  a  friend,  and  traduce  him  in  our 
thoughts.  Am  I  told  that  my  friend  has  done  me  an  injury, 
or  that  he  has  committed  any  undecent  action  ?  Why,  the 
first  debt  that  I  both  owe  to  his  friendship,  and  that  he  may 
challenge  from  mine,  is  rather  to  question  the  truth  of  the 
report  than  presently  to  believe  my  friend  unworthy.  Or,  if 
matter  of  fact  breaks  out  and  blazes  with  too  great  an  evi 
dence  to  be  denied,  or  so  much  as  doubted  of,  why  still  there 
are  other  lenitives  that  friendship  will  apply,  before  it  will  be 
brought  to  the  decretory  rigors  of  a  condemning  sentence. 
A  friend  will  be  sure  to  act  the  part  of  an  advocate,  before 
he  will  assume  that  of  a  judge.  And  there  are  few  actions  so 
ill  (unless  they  are  of  a  very  deep  and  black  tincture  indeed) 
but  will  admit  of  some  extenuation  at  least  from  those  com 
mon  topics  of  human  frailty ;  such  as  are  ignorance  or  inad 
vertency,  passion  or  surprise,  company  or  solicitation ;  with 
many  other  such  things,  which  may  go  a  great  way  towards 
an  excusing  of  the  agent,  though  they  can  not  absolutely 
justify  the  action.  All  which  apologies  for,  and  alleviations  of, 
faults,  though  they  are  the  hights  of  humanity,  yet  they  are 
not  the  favors,  but  the  duties  of  friendship.  Charity  itself 
commands  us,  where  we  know  no  ill,  to  think  well  of  all.  But 
friendship,  that  always  goes  a  pitch  higher,  gives  a  man  a 
peculiar  right  and  claim  to  the  good  opinion  of  his  friend. 
And  if  we  justly  look  upon  a  proneness  to  find  faults,  as  a  very 
ill  and  a  mean  thing,  we  are  to  remember  that  a  proneness 
to  believe  them  is  next  to  it. 

We  have  seen  here  the  demeanor  of  friendship  between 
man  and  man :  but  how  is  it,  think  we  now,  between  Christ 
and  the  soul  that  depends  upon  him  ?  Is  he  anyways  short 
in  these  offices  of  tenderness  and  mitigation  ?  No,  assuredly, 
but  by  infinite  degrees  superior.  For  where  our  heart  does 
but  relent,  his  melts ;  where  our  eye  pities,  his  bowels  yearn. 
How  many  frowardnesses  of  ours  does  he  smother,  how  many 
indignities  does  he  pass  by,  and  how  many  affronts  does  he 
put  up  at  our  hands,  because  his  love  is  invincible,  and  his 
friendship  unchangeable  ?  He  rates  every  action,  every  sin 
ful  infirmity,  with  the  allowances  of  mercy;  and  never 
weighs  the  sin,  but  together  with  it  he  weighs  the  force 


JOHN  xv.  15.]     Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.  283 

of  the  inducement;  how  much  of  it  is  to  be  attributed  to 
choice,  how  much  to  the  violence  of  the  temptation,  to  the 
stratagem  of  the  occasion,  and  the  yielding  frailties  of  weak 
nature. 

Should  we  try  men  at  that  rate  that  we  try  Christ,  we 
should  quickly  find  that  the  largest  stock  of  human  friend 
ship  would  be  too  little  for  us  to  spend  long  upon.  But  his 
compassion  follows  us  with  an  infinite  supply.  He  is  God  in 
his  friendship,  as  well  as  in  his  nature,  and  therefore  we  sin 
ful  creatures  are  not  took  upon  advantages,  nor  consumed  in 
our  provocations. 

See  this  exemplified  in  his  behavior  to  his  disciples,  while 
he  was  yet  upon  earth:  how  ready  was  he  to  excuse  and 
cover  their  infirmities !  At  the  last  and  bitterest  scene  of 
his  life,  when  he  was  so  full  of  agony  and  horror  upon  the 
approach  of  a  dismal  death,  and  so  had  most  need  of  the 
refreshments  of  society,  and  the  friendly  assistances  of  his 
disciples;  and  when  also  he  desired  no  more  of  them  but 
only  for  a  while  to  sit  up  and  pray  with  him :  yet  they,  like 
persons  wholly  untouched  with  his  agonies,  and  unmoved 
with  his  passionate  entreaties,  forget  both  his  and  their  own 
cares,  and  securely  sleep  away  all  concern  for  him  or  them 
selves  either.  Now,  what  a  fierce  and  sarcastic  reprehension 
may  we  imagine  this  would  have  drawn  from  the  friendships 
of  the  world,  that  act  but  to  an  human  pitch !  and  yet  what 
a  gentle  one  did  it  receive  from  Christ !  In  Matt.  xxvi.  40, 
no  more  than,  What,  could  you  not  watch  with  me  for  one, 
hour?  And  when  from  this  admonition  they  took  only  oc 
casion  to  redouble  their  fault,  and  to  sleep  again,  so  that 
upon  a  second  and  third  admonition  they  had  nothing  to 
plead  for  their  unseasonable  drowsiness,  yet  then  Christ,  who 
was  the  only  person  concerned  to  have  resented  and  aggra 
vated  this  their  unkindness,  finds  an  extenuation  for  it,  when 
they  themselves  could  not.  The  spirit  indeed  is  willing,  says 
he,  but  tJie  flesh  is  weak.  As  if  he  had  said,  I  know  your 
hearts,  and  am  satisfied  of  your  affection,  and  therefore  ac 
cept  your  will,  and  compassionate  your  weakness.  So  be 
nign,  so  gracious  is  the  friendship  of  Christ,  so  answerable 
to  our  wants,  so  suitable  to  our  frailties.  Happy  that  man 
who  has  a  friend  to  point  out  to  him  the  perfection  of  duty ; 
and  yet  to  pardon  him  in  the  lapses  of  his  infirmity ! 


284  Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.     [SERM.  xiv. 

3.  The  third  privilege  of  friendship  is  a  sympathy  in  joy 
and  grief.  When  a  man  shall  have  diffused  his  life,  his  self, 
and  his  whole  concernments  so  far  that  he  can  weep  his 
sorrows  with  another's  eyes  ;  when  he  has  another  heart  be 
sides  his  own,  both  to  share  and  to  support  his  griefs ;  and 
when,  if  his  joys  overflow,  he  can  treasure  up  the  overplus 
and  redundancy  of  them  in  another  breast ;  so  that  he  can, 
as  it  were,  shake  off  the  solitude  of  a  single  nature,  by  dwell 
ing  in  two  bodies  at  once,  and  living  by  another's  breath ;  this 
surely  is  the  hight,  the  very  spirit  and  perfection  of  all  hu 
man  felicities. 

It  is  a  true  and  happy  observation  of  that  great  philoso 
pher  the  Lord  Verulam,  that  this  is  the  benefit  of  communi 
cation  of  our  minds  to  others,  that  sorrows  by  being  com 
municated  grow  less,  and  joys  greater.  And  indeed  sorrow, 
like  a  stream,  loses  itself  in  many  channels ;  and  joy,  like  a 
ray  of  the  sun,  reflects  with  a  greater  ardor  and  quickness 
when  it  rebounds  upon  a  man  from  the  breast  of  his  friend. 

Now  friendship  is  the  only  scene  upon  which  the  glorious 
truth  of  this  great  proposition  can  be  fully  acted  and  drawn 
forth.  Which  indeed  is  a  summary  description  of  the  sweets 
of  friendship  :  and  the  whole  life  of  a  friend,  in  the  several 
parts  and  instances  of  it,  is  only  a  more  diffuse  comment 
upon,  and  a  plainer  explication  of,  this  divine  aphorism. 
Friendship  never  restrains  a  pleasure  to  a  single  fruition. 
But  such  is  the  royal  nature  of  this  quality,  that  it  still  ex 
presses  itself  in  the  style  of  kings,  as,  we  do  this  or  that ;  and, 
this  is  our  happiness ;  and,  such  or  such  a  thing  belongs  to 
us  ;  when  the  immediate  possession  of  it  is  vested  only  in  one. 
Nothing  certainly  in  nature  can  so  peculiarly  gratify  the  noble 
dispositions  of  humanity  as  for  one  man  to  see  another  so 
much  himself  as  to  sigh  his  griefs,  and  groan  his  pains,  to 
sing  his  joys,  and,  as  it  were,  to  do  and  feel  every  thing  by 
sympathy  and  secret  inexpressible  communications.  Thus  it 
is  upon  an  human  account. 

Let  us  now  see  how  Christ  sustains  and  makes  good  this 
generous  quality  of  a  friend.  And  this  we  shall  find  fully  set 
forth  to  us  in  Heb.  iv.  15,  where  he  is  said  to  be  a  merciful 
high-priest,  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities  ;  and  that 
in  all  our  afflictions  he  is  afflicted,  Isa.  Ixiii.  9.  And,  no  doubt, 


JOHN  xv.  is.]    Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples,  285 

with  the  same  bowels  and  meltings  of  affection,  with  which 
any  tender  mother  hears  and  bemoans  the  groanings  of  her 
sick  child,  does  Christ  hear  and  sympathize  with  the  spiritual 
agonies  of  a  soul  under  desertion,  or  the  pressures  of  some 
stinging  affliction.  It  is  enough  that  he  understands  the 
exact  measures  of  our  strengths  and  weaknesses ;  that  he 
knows  our  frame  ;  as  it  is  in  Psalm  ciii.  14 ;  and  that  he  does 
not  only  know,  but  emphatically,  that  he  remembers  also,  that 
we  are  but  dust.  Observe  that  signal  passage  of  his  loving 
commiseration ;  as  soon  as  he  had  risen  from  the  dead,  and 
met  Mary  Magdalen,  in  Mark  xvi.  7,  he  sends  this  message 
of  his  resurrection  by  her :  Go,  tell  my  disciples,  and  Peter, 
that  I  am  risen.  What,  was  not  Peter  one  of  his  disciples  ? 
Why  then  is  he  mentioned  particularly  and  by  himself,  as  if 
he  were  exempted  out  of  their  number  ?  Why,  we  know  into 
what  a  plunge  he  had  newly  cast  himself  by  denying  his 
Master :  upon  occasion  of  which  he  was  now  struggling  with 
all  the  perplexities  and  horrors  of  mind  imaginable,  lest 
Christ  might  in  like  manner  deny  and  disown  him  before  his 
Father,  and  so  repay  one  denial  with  another.  Hereupon 
Christ  particularly  applies  the  comforts  of  his  resurrection 
to  him,  as  if  he  had  said,  Tell  all  my  disciples,  but  be  sure 
especially  to  tell  poor  Peter,  that  I  am  risen  from  the  dead ; 
and  that,  notwithstanding  his  denial  of  me,  the  benefits  of 
my  resurrection  belong  to  him,  as  much  as  to  any  of  the  rest. 
This  is  the  privilege  of  the  saints,  to  have  a  companion  and 
a  supporter  in  all  their  miseries,  in  all  the  doubtful  turnings 
and  doleful  passages  of  their  lives.  In  sum,  this  happiness 
does  Christ  vouchsafe  to  all  his,  that  as  a  savior  he  once 
suffered  for  them,  and  that  as  a  friend  he  always  suffers  with 
them. 

4.  The  fourth  privilege  of  friendship  is  that  which  is  here 
specified  in  the  text,  a  communication  of  secrets.  A  bosom 
secret  and  a  bosom  friend  are  usually  put  together.  And  this 
from  Christ  to  the  soul  is  not  only  kindness,  but  also  honor 
and  advancement ;  it  is  for  him  to  vouch  it  one  of  his  privy 
council.  Nothing  under  a  jewel  is  taken  into  the  cabinet. 
A  secret  is  the  apple  of  our  eye ;  it  will  bear  no  touch  nor 
approach;  we  use  to  cover  nothing  but  what  we  account  a 
rarity.  And  therefore  to  communicate  a  secret  to  any  one, 


286  Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.    [SERM.  xiv. 

is  to  exalt  him  to  one  of  the  royalties  of  heaven.  For  none 
knows  the  secrets  of  a  man's  mind,  but  his  God,  his  con 
science,  and  his  friend.  Neither  would  any  prudent  man  let 
such  a  thing  go  out  of  his  own  heart,  had  he  not  another 
heart  besides  his  own  to  receive  it. 

Now  it  was  of  old  a  privilege,  with  which  God  was  pleased 
to  honor  such  as  served  him  at  the  rate  of  an  extraordinary 
obedience,  thus  to  admit  them  to  a  knowledge  of  many  of  his 
great  counsels  locked  up  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  When 
God  had  designed  the  destruction  of  Sodom,  the  scripture 
represents  him  as  unable  to  conceal  that  great  purpose  from 
Abraham,  whom  he  always  treated  as  his  friend  and  acquaint 
ance  ;  that  is,  not  only  with  love,  but  also  with  intimacy  and 
familiarity,  in  Gen.  xviii.  17.  And  the  Lord  said,  Shall  I  hide 
from  Abraham  the  thing  that  I  go  about  to  do  ?  He  thought  it 
a  violation  of  the  rights  of  friendship  to  reserve  his  design 
wholly  to  himself.  And  St.  James  tells  us,  in  James  ii.  23, 
that  Abraham  was  called  the  friend  of  God ;  and  therefore  had 
a  kind  of  claim  to  the  knowledge  of  his  secrets,  and  the 
participation  of  his  counsels.  Also,  in  Exodus  xxxiii.  11,  it 
is  said  of  God,  that  he  spoke  to  Moses  as  a  man  speaketh  to  his 
friend.  And  that,  not  only  for  the  familiarity  and  facility  of 
address,  but  also  for  the  peculiar  communications  of  his 
mind.  Moses  was  with  him  in  the  retirements  of  the  mount, 
received  there  his  dictates  and  his  private  instructions,  as  his 
deputy  and  viceroy ;  and  when  the  multitude  and  congrega 
tion  of  Israel  were  thundered  away,  and  kept  off  from  any 
approach  to  it,  he  was  honored  with  an  intimate  and  immedi 
ate  admission.  The  priests  indeed  were  taken  into  a  near  at 
tendance  upon  God ;  but  still  there  was  a  degree  of  a  nearer 
converse,  and  the  interest  of  a  friend  was  above  the  privi 
leges  of  the  highest  servant.  In  Exod.  xix.  24,  Thou  shalt 
come  up,  says  God,  thou,  and  Aaron  with  thee :  but  let  not  the 
priests  and  the  people  break  through  to  come  up  unto  the  Lord, 
lest  the  Lord  break  forth  upon  them.  And  if  we  proceed  fur 
ther,  we  shall  still  find  a  continuation  of  the  same  privilege ; 
Psalm  xxv.  14 ;  The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear 
him.  Nothing  is  to  be  concealed  from  the  other  self.  To  be 
a  friend,  and  to  be  conscious,  are  terms  equivalent. 

Now  if  God  maintained  such  intimacies  with  those  whom 


JOHN  xv.  15.]      Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.  287 

he  loved  under  the  law,  (which  was  a  dispensation  of  greater 
distance,)  we  may  he  sure  that  under  the  gospel,  (the  very 
nature  of  which  imports  condescension  and  compliance,)  there 
must  needs  he  the  same,  with  much  greater  advantage.  And 
therefore  when  God  had  manifested  himself  in  the  flesh,  how 
sacredly  did  he  preserve  this  privilege !  How  freely  did 
Christ  unhosom  himself  to  his  disciples,  in  Luke  viii.  10. 
Unto  you,  says  he,  it  is  given  to  know  the  mysteries  of  Hie  king 
dom  of  God :  but  unto  others  in  parables ;  that  seeing  they  might 
not  see  :  such  shall  he  permitted  to  cast  an  eye  into  the  ark, 
and  to  look  into  the  very  holy  of  holies.  And  again,  in  Matt, 
xiii.  17,  Many  prophets  and  righteous  men  have  desired  to  see 
those  things  which  ye  see,  and  have  not  seen  them  ;  and  to  hear 
those  things  which  ye  hear  and  have  not  heard  them.  Neither 
did  he  treat  them  with  these  peculiarities  of  favor  in  the  ex 
traordinary  discoveries  of  the  gospel  only,  hut  also  of  those 
incommunicable  revelations  of  the  divine  love,  in  reference  to 
their  own  personal  interest  in  it.  In  Rev.  ii.  17  ;  To  him  that 
overcometh  will  I  give  to  eat  of  the  hidden  manna,  and  will  give 
him  a  white  stone,  and  in  tJie  stone  a  new  name  written,  which  no 
man  knoiveth,  saving  he  that  receiveth  it.  Assurance  is  a  rarity 
covered  from  the  inspection  of  the  world.  A  secret  that 
none  can  know  hut  God,  and  the  person  that  is  hlessed  with 
it.  It  is  writ  in  a  private  character,  not  to  he  read  nor  un 
derstood  hut  hy  the  conscience,  to  which  the  Spirit  of  God 
has  vouchsafed  to  decipher  it.  Every  heliever  lives  upon  an 
inward  provision  of  comfort  that  the  world  is  a  stranger  to. 

5.  The  fifth  advantage  of  friendship  is  counsel  and  advice. 
A  man  will  sometimes  need  not  only  another  heart,  hut  also 
another  head  besides  his  own.  In  solitude  there  is  not  only 
discomfort,  but  weakness  also.  And  that  saying  of  the  wise 
man,  Eccles.  iv.  10,  Woe  to  him  that  is  alone,  is  verified  upon 
none  so  much  as  upon  the  friendless  person  :  when  a  man 
shall  be  perplexed  with  knots  and  problems  of  business  and 
contrary  affairs,  where  the  determination  is  dubious,  and  both 
parts  of  the  contrariety  seem  equally  weighty,  so  that,  which 
way  soever  the  choice  determines,  a  man  is  sure  to  venture  a 
great  concern  :  how  happy  then  is  it  to  fetch  in  aid  from  an 
other  person,  whose  judgment  may  be  greater  than  my  own, 
and  whose  concernment  is  sure  not  to  be  less!  There  are 


288  Of  tlie  Love  of  Clirist  to  his  Disciples.      [SERM.  xiv. 

some  passages  of  a  man's  affairs  that  would  quite  break  a 
single  understanding.  So  many  intricacies,  so  many  labyrinths, 
are  there  in  them,  that  the  succors  of  reason  fail,  the  very 
force  and  spirit  of  it  being  lost  in  an  actual  intention  scattered 
upon  several  clashing  objects  at  once ;  in  which  case,  the  in 
terposal  of  a  friend  is  like  the  supply  of  a  fresh  party  to  a 
besieged  yielding  city. 

Now  Christ  is  not  failing  in  this  office  of  a  friend  also. 
For  in  that  illustrious  prediction  of  Esay  ix.  6,  amongst  the 
rest  of  his  great  titles,  he  is  called  mighty  Counsellor.  And 
his  counsel  is  not  only  sure,  but  also  free.  It  is  not  under 
the  gospel  of  Christ,  as  under  some  laws  of  men,  where  you 
must  be  forced  to  buy  your  counsel,  and  oftentimes  pay  dear 
for  bad  advice.  No,  he  is  a  light  to  those  tliat  sit  in  darkness. 
And  no  man  fees  the  sun,  no  man  purchases  the  light,  nor 
errs,  if  he  walks  by  it.  The  only  price  that  Christ  sets  upon 
his  counsel  is,  that  we  follow  it,  and  that  we  do  that  which 
is  best  for  us  to  do.  He  is  not  only  light  for  us  to  see  by, 
but  also  light  for  us  to  see  with ;  He  is  understanding  to  tlie 
ignorant,  and  eyes  to  the  blind :  and  whosoever  has  both  a  faith 
ful  and  a  discreet  friend,  to  guide  him  in  the  dark,  slippery, 
and  dangerous  passages  of  his  life,  may  carry  his  eyes  in  an 
other  man's  head,  and  yet  see  never  the  worse.  In  1  Cor.  i. 
30,  the  Apostle  tells  us,  that  Christ  is  made  to  us  not  only 
sanctification  and  redemption,  but  wisdom  too  :  we  are  his  mem 
bers  ;  and  it  is  but  natural  that  all  the  members  of  the  body 
should  be  guided  by  the  wisdom  of  the  head. 

And  therefore  let  every  believer  comfort  himself  in  this 
high  privilege,  that  in  the  great  things  that  concern  his 
eternal  peace  he  is  not  left  to  stand  or  fall  by  the  uncertain 
directions  of  his  own  judgment.  No,  sad  were  his  condition 
if  he  should  be  so ;  when  he  is  to  encounter  an  enemy  made 
up  of  wiles  and  stratagems,  an  old  serpent,  and  a  long-experi 
enced  deceiver,  and  successful  at  the  trade  for  some  thou 
sands  of  years. 

The  inequality  of  the  match  between  such  an  one  and  the 
subtilest  of  us,  would  quickly  appear  by  a  fatal  circumven 
tion  :  there  must  be  a  wisdom  from  above,  to  overreach  and 
master  this  hellish  wisdom  from  beneath.  And  this  every 
sanctified  person  is  sure  of  in  his  great  friend,  in  whom  all 


JOHN  xv.  is.]    Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.  289 

the  treasures  of  wisdom  dwell;  treasures  that  flow  out,  and  are 
imparted  freely,  both  iu  direction  and  assistance,  to  all  that 
belong-  to  him.  He  never  leaves  any  of  his,  perplexed, 
amazed,  or  bewildered,  where  the  welfare  of  their  souls  re 
quires  a  better  judgment  than  their  own,  either  to  guide  them 
in  their  duty,  or  to  disentangle  them  from  a  temptation. 
Whosoever  has  Christ  for  his  friend,  shall  be  sure  of  counsel ; 
and  whosoever  is  his  own  friend,  will  be  sure  to  obey  it. 

6.  The  last  and  crowning  privilege,  or  rather  property,  of 
friendship  is  constancy.  He  only  is  a  friend  whose  friend 
ship  lives  as  long  as  himself,  and  who  ceases  to  love  and  to 
breathe  at  the  same  instant.  Not  that  I  yet  state  constancy 
in  such  an  absurd,  senseless,  and  irrational  continuance  in 
friendship,  as  no  injuries  or  provocations  whatsoever  can  break 
off.  For  there  are  some  injuries  that  extinguish  the  very  re 
lation  between  friends.  In  which  case,  a  man  ceases  to  be  a 
friend,  not  from  any  inconstancy  in  his  friendship,  but  from 
defect  of  an  object  for  his  friendship  to  exert  itself  upon.  It 
is  one  thing  for  a  father  to  cease  to  be  a  father  by  casting  off 
his  son  ;  and  another  for  him  to  cease  to  be  so,  by  the  death 
of  his  son.  In  this,  the  relation  is  at  an  end  for  want  of  a 
correlate  :  so  in  friendship  there  are  some  passages  of  that 
high  and  hostile  nature,  that  they  really  and  properly  consti 
tute  and  denominate  the  person  guilty  of  them,  an  enemy ; 
and  if  so,  how  can  the  other  person  possibly  continue  a  friend, 
since  friendship  essentially  requires  that  it  be  between  two  at 
least ;  and  there  can  be  no  friendship,  where  there  are  not 
two  friends  ? 

Nobody  is  bound  to  look  upon  his  backbiter  or  his  under- 
miner,  his  betrayer  or  his  oppressor,  as  his  friend.  Nor  in 
deed  is  it  possible  that  he  should  do  so,  unless  he  could  alter 
the  constitution  and  order  of  things,  and  establish  a  new  na 
ture  and  a  new  morality  in  the  world.  For  to  remain  unsen- 
sible  of  such  provocations,  is  not  constancy,  but  apathy.  And 
therefore  they  discharge  the  person  so  treated  from  the  proper 
obligations  of  a  friend ;  though  Christianity,  I  confess,  binds 
him  to  the  duties  of  a  neighbor. 

But  to  give  you  the  true  nature  and  measures  of  constancy ; 
it  is  such  a  stability  and  firmness  of  friendship,  as  overlooks 
and  passes  by  all  those  lesser  failures  of  kindness  and  respect, 

VOL.  I.  19 


290  Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.     [SERM.  xiv. 

that,  partly  through  passion,  partly  through  indiscretion,  and 
such  other  frailties  incident  to  human  nature,  a  man  may  be 
sometimes  guilty  of,  and  yet  still  retain  the  same  habitual 
good-will  and  prevailing  propensity  of  mind  to  his  friend, 
that  he  had  before.  And  whose  friendship  soever  is  of  that 
strength  and  duration  as  to  stand  its  ground  against,  and  re 
main  unshaken  by,  such  assaults,  (which  yet  are  strong  enough 
to  shake  down  and  annihilate  the  friendship  of  little  puny 
minds,)  such  an  one,  I  say,  has  reached  all  the  true  measures 
of  constancy  :  his  friendship  is  of  a  noble  make  and  a  lasting 
consistency ;  it  resembles  marble,  and  deserves  to  be  wrote 
upon  it. 

But  how  few  tempers  in  the  world  are  of  that  magnanimous 
frame  as  to  reach  the  hights  of  so  great  a  virtue :  many  offer 
at  the  effects  of  friendship,  but  they  do  not  last ;  they  are 
promising  in  the  beginning,  but  they  fail,  and  jade,  and  tire 
in  the  prosecution.  For  most  people  in  the  world  are  acted 
by  levity  and  humor,  by  strange  and  irrational  changes. 
And  how  often  may  we  meet  with  those  who  are  one  while 
courteous,  civil,  and  obliging,  (at  least  to  their  proportion,) 
but  within  a  small  time  after  are  so  supercilious,  sharp,  troub 
lesome,  fierce,  and  exceptious,  that  they  are  not  only  short 
of  the  true  character  of  friendship,  but  become  the  very  sores 
and  burdens  of  society!  Such  low,  such  worthless  disposi 
tions,  how  easily  are  they  discovered,  how  justly  are  they 
despised  !  But  now,  that  we  may  pass  from  one  contrary  to 
another,  Christ,  who  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever  in 
his  being,  is  so  also  in  his  affection.  He  is  not  of  the  number 
or  nature  of  those  pitiful,  mean  pretenders  to  friendship,  who 
perhaps  will  love  and  smile  upon  you  one  day,  and  not  so  much 
as  know  you  the  next :  many  of  which  sort  there  are  in  the 
world,  who  are  not  so  much  courted  outwardly,  but  that  in 
wardly  they  are  detested  much  more. 

Friendship  is  a  kind  of  covenant ;  and  most  covenants  run 
upon  mutual  terms  and  conditions.  And  therefore,  so  long 
as  we  are  exact  in  fulfilling  the  condition  on  our  parts,  (I 
mean,  exact  according  to  the  measures  of  sincerity,  though 
not  of  perfection,)  we  may  be  sure  that  Christ  will  not  fail  in 
the  least  iota  to  fulfil  every  thing  on  his.  The  favor  of  rela 
tions,  patrons,  and  princes,  is  uncertain,  ticklish,  and  vari- 


JOHN  xv.  is.]    Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.  291 

able;  and  the  friendship  which  they  take  up,  upon  the  ac 
counts  of  judgment  and  merit,  they  most  times  lay  down  out 
of  humor.  But  the  friendship  of  Christ  has  none  of  these 
weaknesses,  no  such  hollowness  or  unsoundness  in  it.  For 
neither  principalities,  nor  powers,  things  present,  nor  things  to 
come,  no,  nor  all  the  rage  and  malice  of  hell,  shall  be  able  to 
pluck  the  meanest  of  Christ's  friends  out  of  his  bosom :  for, 
whom  he  loves,  he  loves  to  the  end. 

Now,  from  the  particulars  hitherto  discoursed  of,  we  may 
infer  and  learn  these  two  things :  1.  The  excellency  and 
value  of  friendship.  Christ  the  Son  of  the  most  high  God, 
the  second  person  in  the  glorious  Trinity,  took  upon  him  our 
nature,  that  he  might  give  a  great  instance  and  example  of 
this  virtue;  and  condescended  to  be  a  man,  only  that  he 
might  be  a  friend.  Our  Creator,  our  Lord  and  King,  he  was 
before ;  but  he  would  needs  come  down  from  all  this,  and  in 
a  sort  become  our  equal,  that  he  might  partake  of  that  noble 
quality  that  is  properly  between  equals.  Christ  took  not 
upon  him  flesh  and  blood  that  he  might  conquer  and  rule 
nations,  lead  armies,  or  possess  palaces ;  but  that  he  might 
have  the  relenting,  the  tenderness,  and  the  compassions  of 
human  nature,  which  render  it  properly  capable  of  friend 
ship  ;  and,  in  a  word,  that  he  might  have  our  heart,  and  we 
have  his.  God  himself  sets  friendship  above  all  considera 
tions  of  kindred  or  consanguinity,  as  the  greatest  ground  and 
argument  of  mutual  endearment,  in  Deut.  xv.  6 :  If  thy 
brother,  tlie  son  of  thy  mother,  or  thy  son,  or  thy  daughter,  or 
the  wife  of  thy  bosom,  or  thy  friend,  which  is  as  thine  own  soul, 
entice  thee  to  go  mid  serve  other  gods,  tliou  shalt  not  consent  unto 
him.  The  emphasis  of  the  expression  is  very  remarkable  ;  it 
being  a  gradation  or  ascent,  by  several  degrees  of  dearness, 
to  that  which  is  the  highest  of  all.  Neither  wife  nor  brother, 
son  nor  daughter,  though  the  nearest  in  cognation,  are  al 
lowed  to  stand  in  competition  with  a  friend ;  who,  if  he  fully 
answers  the  duties  of  that  great  relation,  is  indeed  better 
and  more  valuable  than  all  of  them  put  together,  and  may 
serve  instead  of  them ;  so  that  he  who  has  a  firm,  a  worthy, 
and  sincere  friend,  may  want  all  the  rest,  without  missing 
them.  That  which  lies  in  a  man's  bosom  should  be  dear  to 
him,  but  that  which  lies  within  his  heart  ought  to  be  much 
dearer. 


292  Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.    [SERM.  xrv. 

2.  In  the  next  place,  we  learn  from  hence  the  high  advan 
tage  of  becoming  truly  pious  and  religious.  When  we  have 
said  and  done  all,  it  is  only  the  true  Christian  and  the  relig 
ious  person  who  is  or  can  he  sure  of  a  friend ;  sure  of  ob 
taining,  sure  of  keeping  him.  But  as  for  the  friendship  of 
the  world ;  when  a  man  shall  have  done  all  that  he  can  to 
make  one  his  friend,  employed  the  utmost  of  his  wit  and 
labor,  beaten  his  brains,  and  emptied  his  purse,  to  create  an 
endearment  between  him  and  the  person  whose  friendship  he 
desires,  he  may,  in  the  end,  upon  all  these  endeavors  and  at 
tempts,  be  forced  to  write  vanity  and  frustration :  for  by  them 
all  he  may  at  last  be  no  more  able  to  get  into  the  other's 
heart  than  he  is  to  thrust  his  hand  into  a  pillar  of  brass. 
The  man's  affection,  amidst  all  these  kindnesses  done  him, 
remaining  wholly  unconcerned  and  impregnable ;  just  like  a 
rock,  which,  being  plied  continually  by  the  waves,  still  throws 
them  back  again  into  the  bosom  of  the  sea  that  sent  them, 
but  is  not  at  all  moved  by  any  of  them. 

People  at  first,  while  they  are  young  and  raw,  and  soffc- 
uatured,  are  apt  to  think  it  an  easy  thing  to  gain  love,  and 
reckon  their  own  friendship  a  sure  price  of  another  man's. 
But  when  experience  shall  have  once  opened  their  eyes,  and 
showed  them  the  hardness  of  most  hearts,  the  hollowness  of 
others,  and  the  baseness  and  ingratitude  of  almost  all,  they 
will  then  find  that  a  friend  is  the  gift  of  God ;  and  that  he 
only,  who  made  hearts,  can  unite  them.  For  it  is  he  who 
creates  those  sympathies  and  suitableness  of  nature,  that  are 
the  foundation  of  all  true  friendship,  and  then  by  his  provi 
dence  brings  persons  so  affected  together. 

It  is  an  expression  frequent  in  scripture,  but  infinitely 
more  significant  than  at  first  it  is  usually  observed  to  be ; 
namely,  that  God  gave  such  or  such  a  person  grace  or  favor 
in  another's  eyes.  As  for  instance,  in  Gen.  xxxix.  21,  it  is 
said  of  Joseph,  that  the  Lord  was  with  him,  and  gave  him 
favor  in  the  sight  of  tlie  keeper  of  the  prison.  Still  it  is  an 
invisible  hand  from  heaven  that  ties  this  knot,  and  mingles 
hearts  and  souls,  by  strange,  secret,  and  unaccountable  con 
junctions. 

That  heart  shall  surrender  itself  and  its  friendship  to  one 
man,  at  first  view,  which  another  has  in  vain  been  laying 


JOHN  xv.  is.]    Of  Hie  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.  293 

siege  to  for  many  years,  by  all  the  repeated  acts  of  kindness 
imaginable . 

Nay,  so  far  is  friendship  from  being  of  any  human  produc 
tion,  that,  unless  nature  be  predisposed  to  it  by  its  own  pro 
pensity  or  inclination,  no  arts  of  obligation  shall  be  able  to 
abate  the  secret  hatreds  and  hostilities  of  some  persons  to 
wards  others.  No  friendly  offices,  no  addresses,  no  benefits 
whatsoever,  shall  ever  alter  or  allay  that  diabolical  rancor 
that  frets  and  ferments  in  some  hellish  breasts,  but  that  upon 
all  occasions  it  will  foam  out  at  its  foul  mouth  in  slander  and 
invective,  and  sometimes  bite  too  in  a  shrewd  turn  or  a  secret 
blow.  This  is  true  and  undeniable  upon  frequent  experience  ; 
and  happy  those  who  can  learn  it  at  the  cost  of  other  men's. 

But  now,  on  the  contrary,  he  who  will  give  up  his  name  to 
Christ  in  faith  unfeigned,  and  a  sincere  obedience  to  all  his 
righteous  laws,  shall  be  sure  to  find  love  for  love,  and  friend 
ship  for  friendship.  The  success  is  certain  and  infallible ; 
and  none  ever  yet  miscarried  in  the  attempt.  For  Christ 
freely  offers  his  friendship  to  all,  and  sets  no  other  rate  upon 
so  vast  a  purchase,  but  only  that  we  would  suffer  him  to  be 
our  friend.  Thou  perhaps  spendest  thy  precious  time  in 
waiting  upon  such  a  great  one,  and  thy  estate  in  presenting 
him,  and  probably,  after  all,  hast  no  other  reward  but  some 
times  to  be  smiled  upon,  and  always  to  be  smiled  at;  and 
when  thy  greatest  and  most  pressing  occasions  shall  call  for 
succor  and  relief,  then  to  be  deserted  and  cast  off,  and  not 
known. 

Now,  I  say,  turn  the  stream  of  thy  endeavors  another  way, 
and  bestow  but  half  that  hearty,  sedulous  attenclpaice  upon 
thy  Saviour  in  the  duties  of  prayer  and  mortification,  and  be 
at  half  that  expense  in  charitable  works,  by  relieving  Christ 
in  his  poor  members  ;  and,  in  a  word,  study  as  much  to 
please  him  who  died  for  thee,  as  thou  dost  to  court  and 
humor  thy  great  patron,  who  cares  not  for  thee,  and  thou 
shalt  make  him  thy  friend  forever ;  a  friend  who  shall  own 
thee  in  thy  lowest  condition,  speak  comfort  to  thee  in  all  thy 
sorrows,  counsel  thee  in  all  thy  doubts,  answer  all  thy  wants, 
and,  in  a  word,  never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  tliee.  But  when 
all  the  hopes  that  thou  hast  raised  upon  the  promises  or  sup 
posed  kindnesses  of  the  fastidious  and  fallacious  great  ones 


29.4  Of  the  Love  of  Christ  to  his  Disciples.     [SERM.  xiv. 

of  the  world  shall  fail,  and  upbraid  thee  to  thy  face,  he  shall 
then  take  thee  into  his  bosom,  embrace,  cherish,  and  support 
thee,  and,  as  the  Psalmist  expresses  it,  he  shall  guide  thee  with 
his  counsel  here,  and  afterwards  receive  thee  into  glory. 

To  which  God  of  his  mercy  vouchsafe  to  'bring  us  all;  to  whom 
be  rendered  and  ascribed,  &c.     Amen. 


SERMON  XV. 


A   DISCOURSE   AGAINST   LONG   EXTEMPORARY   PRAYERS. 


ECCLESIASTES  v.  2.  — Be  not  rash  with  thy  mouth,  and  let  not  thine  heart  be  hasty  to 
utter  any  thing  before  God:  for  God  is  in  heaven,  and  thou  upon  earth:  therefore  let 
thy  words  be  few. 

WE  have  here  the  wisest  of  men  instructing  us  how  to 
behave  ourselves  before  God  in  his  own  house;  and 
particularly  when  we  address  to  him  in  the  most  important  of 
all  duties,  which  is  prayer.  Solomon  had  the  honor  to  be 
spoken  to  by  God  himself,  and  therefore,  in  all  likelihood, 
none  more  fit  to  teach  us  how  to  speak  to  God.  A  great 
privilege  certainly  for  dust  and  ashes  to  be  admitted  to  ;  and 
therefore  it  will  concern  us  to  manage  it  so,  that  in  these  our 
approaches  to  the  King  of  heaven,  his  goodness  may  not 
cause  us  to  forget  his  greatness,  nor  (as  it  is  but  too  usual  for 
subjects  to  use  privilege  against  prerogative)  his  honor  suffer 
by  his  condescension. 

In  the  words  we  have  these  three  things  observable  : 

1st,  That  whosoever  appears  in  the  house  of  God,  and 
particularly  in  the  way  of  prayer,  ought  to  reckon  himself, 
in  a  more  especial  manner,  placed  in  the  sight  and  presence 
of  God. 

2dly,  That  the  vast  and  infinite  distance  between  God  and 
him  ought  to  create  in  him  all  imaginable  awe  and  reverence 
in  such  his  addresses  to  God. 

3dly  and  lastly,  That  this  reverence  required  of  him  is  to 
consist  in  a  serious  preparation  of  his  thoughts,  and  a  sober 
government  of  his  expressions :  neither  is  his  mouth  to  be  rash, 
nor  his  heart  to  be  hasty,  in  uttering  any  thing  before  God. 

These  things  are  evidently  contained  in  the  words,  and  do 


296  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  [SEEM.  xv. 

as  evidently  contain  the  whole  sense  of  them.     But  I  shall 
gather  them  all  into  this  one  proposition  ;  namely, 

That  premeditation  of  thought,  and  brevity  of  expression, 
are  the  great  ingredients  of  that  reverence  that  is  required  to 
a  pious,  acceptable,  and  devout  prayer. 

For  the  better  handling  of  which,  we  will,  in  the  first  place, 
consider  how,  and  by  what  way  it  is,  that  prayer  works  upon, 
or  prevails  with,  God,  for  the  obtaining  of  the  things  we  pray 
for.  Concerning  which,  I  shall  lay  down  this  general  rule, 
That  the  way  by  which  prayer  prevails  with  God  is  wholly 
different  from  that  by  which  it  prevails  with  men.  And  to 
give  you  this  more  particularly. 

1.  First  of  all,  it  prevails  not  with  God  by  way  of  informa 
tion  or  notification  of  the  thing  to  him,  which  we  desire  of 
him.  With  men  indeed  this  is  the  common,  and  with  wise 
men  the  chief,  and  should  be  the  only  way  of  obtaining  what 
we  ask  of  them.  We  represent  and  lay  before  them  our  wants 
and  indigences,  and  the  misery  of  our  condition.  Which 
being  made  known  to  them,  the  quality  and  condition  of  the 
thing  asked  for,  and  of  the  persons  who  ask  it,  induces  them 
to  give  that  to  us,  and  to  do  that  for  us,  which  we  desire  and 
petition  for :  but  it  is  not  so  in  our  addresses  to  God ;  for  he 
knows  our  wants  and  our  conditions  better  than  we  ourselves : 
he  is  beforehand  with  all  our  prayers;  Matt.  vi.  8;  Tour 
Father  knoweth  what  things  ye  have  need  of  before  ye  ask  him  ; 
and  in  Psalm  cxxxix.  2,  Thou  understandest  my  tJiought  afar 
off.  God  knows  our  thoughts  before  the  very  heart  that  con 
ceives  them.  And  how  then  can  he,  who  is  but  of  yesterday, 
suggest  any  thing  new  to  that  eternal  mind  !  how  can  igno 
rance  inform  omniscience ! 

2dly,  Neither  does  prayer  prevail  with  God  by  way  of  per 
suasion,  or  working  upon  the  affections,  so  as  thereby  to  move 
him  to  pity  or  compassion.  This  indeed  is  the  most  usual 
and  most  effectual  way  to  prevail  with  men  ;  who,  for  the  gen 
erality,  are  one  part  reason,  and  nine  parts  affection.  So 
that  one  of  a  voluble  tongue,  and  a  dexterous  insinuation,  may 
do  what  he  will  with  vulgar  minds,  and  with  wise  men  too, 
at  their  weak  times.  But  God,  who  is  as  void  of  passion  or 
affection  as  he  is  of  quantity  or  corporeity,  is  not  to  be  dealt 
with  this  way.  He  values  not  our  rhetoric,  nor  our  patheti- 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  297 

cal  harangues.  He  who  applies  to  God,  applies  to  an  infinite 
almighty  reason,  a  pure  act,  all  intellect,  the  first  mover,  and 
therefore  not  to  be  moved  or  wrought  upon  himself.  In  all 
passion,  the  mind  suffers,  (as  the  very  signification  of  the 
word  imports,)  but  absolute,  entire  perfection  can  not  suffer ; 
it  is  and  must  be  immovable,  and  by  consequence  impassible. 
And  therefore, 

In  the  third  and  last  place,  much  less  is  God  to  be  pre 
vailed  upon  by  importunity,  and,  as  it  were,  wearying  him 
into  a  concession  of  what  we  beg  of  him.  Though  with  men 
we  know  this  also  is  not  unusual.  A  notable  instance  of 
which  we  have  in  Luke  xviii.  4,  5,  where  the  unjust  judge 
being  with  a  restless  vehemence  sued  to  for  justice,  says  thus 
within  himself:  Though  I  fear  not  God,  nor  regard  man,  yet 
because  this  widow  troubleth  me,  I  will  avenge  her,  lest  by  her 
continual  coming  she  weary  me. 

In  like  manner,  how  often  are  beggars  relieved  only  for 
their  eager  and  rude  importunity ;  not  that  the  person  who 
relieves  them  is  thereby  informed  or  satisfied  of  their  real 
want,  nor  yet  moved  to  pity  them  by  all  their  cry  and  cant, 
but  to  rid  himself  from  their  vexatious  noise  and  din ;  so  that 
to  purchase  his  quiet  by  a  little  alms  he  gratifies  the  beggar, 
but  indeed  relieves  himself.  But  now  this  way  is  further  from 
prevailing  with  God  than  either  of  the  former.  For  as  om 
niscience  is  not  to  be  informed,  so  neither  is  omnipotence  to 
be  wearied.  We  may  much  more  easily  think  to  clamor  the 
sun  and  stars  out  of  their  courses  than  to  word  the  great 
Creator  of  them  out  of  the  steady  purposes  of  his  own  will  by 
all  the  vehemence  and  loudness  of  our  petitions.  Men  may  tire 
themselves  with  their  own  prayers,  but  God  is  not  to  be  tired. 
The  rapid  motion  and  whirle  of  things  her  below  interrupts 
not  the  inviolable  rest  and  calmness  of  the  nobler  beings 
above.  While  the  winds  roar  and  bluster  here  in  the  first 
and  second  regions  of  the  air,  there  is  a  perfect  serenity  in 
the  third.  Men's  desires  can  not  control  God's  decrees. 

And  thus  I  have  shown  that  the  three  ways  by  which  men 
prevail  with  men  in  their  prayers  and  applications  to  them, 
have  no  place  at  all  in  giving  any  efficacy  to  their  addresses 
to  God. 

But  you  will  ask  then,  Upon  what  account  is  it  that  prayer 


298  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  [SERM.  xv. 

becomes  prevalent  and  efficacious  with  God,  so  as  to  procure 
us  the  good  things  we  pray  for  ?  I  answer,  Upon  this,  that  it 
is  the  fulfilling  of  that  condition  upon  which  God  has  freely 
promised  to  convey  his  blessings  to  men.  God  of  his  own 
absolute,  unaccountable  good-will  and  pleasure,  has  thought 
fit  to  appoint  and  fix  upon  this  as  the  means  by  which  he  will 
supply  and  answer  the  wants  of  mankind.  As  for  instance, 
suppose  a  prince  should  declare  to  any  one  of  his  subjects, 
that  if  he  shall  appear  before  him  every  morning  in  his  bed 
chamber,  he  shall  receive  of  him  a  thousand  talents.  We 
must  not  here  imagine  that  the  subject,  by  making  this  ap 
pearance,  does  either  move  or  persuade  his  prince  to  give  him 
such  a  sum  of  money :  no,  he  only  performs  the  condition  of 
the  promise,  and  thereby  acquires  a  right  to  the  thing  prom 
ised.  He  does  indeed  hereby  engage  his  prince  to  give  him 
this  sum,  though  he  does  by  no  means  persuade  him:  or 
rather,  to  speak  more  strictly  and  properly,  the  prince's  own 
justice  and  veracity  is  an  engagement  upon  the  prince  him 
self,  to  make  good  his  promise  to  him  who  fulfills  the  condi 
tions  of  it. 

But  you  will  say,  that  upon  this  ground  it  will  follow,  that 
when  we  obtain  any  thing  of  God  by  prayer,  we  have  it  upon 
claim  of  justice,  and  not  by  way  of  gift,  as  a  free  result  of  his 
bounty. 

I  answer,  that  both  these  are  very  well  consistent ;  for 
though  he  who  makes  a  promise  upon  a  certain  condition  is 
bound  in  justice  upon  the  fulfilling  of  that  condition  to  per 
form  his  promise,  yet  it  was  perfectly  grace  and  goodness, 
bounty  and  free  mercy,  that  first  induced  him  to  make  the 
promise,  and  particularly  to  state  the  tenor  of  it  upon  such  a 
condition.  If  we  confess  our  sins,  says  the  apostle,  1  John 
i.  9,  God  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins.  Can  any 
thing  be  freer  and  more  the  effect  of  mere  grace  than  the 
forgiveness  of  sins  ?  And  yet  it  is  certain  from  this  scripture 
and  many  more,  that  it  is  firmly  promised  us  upon  condition 
of  a  penitent,  hearty  confession  of  them,  and  consequently  as 
certain  it  is  that  God  stands  obliged  here  even  by  his  faith 
fulness  and  justice,  to  make  good  this  his  promise  of  forgive 
ness  to  those  who  come  up  to  the  terms  of  it  by  such  a 
confession. 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]          Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  299 

In  like  manner,  for  prayer,  in  reference  to  the  good  things 
prayed  for.  He  who  prays  for  a  thing  as  God  has  appointed 
him,  gets  thereby  a  right  to  the  thing  prayed  for  :  hut  it  is  a 
right,  not  springing  from  any  merit  or  condignity,  either  in 
the  prayer  itself,  or  the  person  who  makes  it,  to  the  hlessing 
which  he  prays  for,  hut  from  God's  veracity,  truth,  and  jus 
tice,  who,  having  appointed  prayer  as  the  condition  of  that 
blessing,  can  not  but  stand  to  what  he  himself  had  appointed  ; 
though  that  he  did  appoint  it  was  the  free  result  and  deter 
mination  of  his  own  will. 

We  have  a  full  account  of  this  whole  matter  from  God's 
own  mouth,  in  Psalm  1.  Call  upon  me,  says  God,  in  the  day 
of  trouble,  and  I  will  deliver  tliee.  These  are  evidently  the 
terms  upon  which  God  answers  prayers  :  in  which  case  there 
is  no  doubt  but  the  deliverance  is  still  of  more  worth  than  the 
prayer ;  and  there  is  as  little  doubt  also,  that,  without  such 
a  previous  declaration  made  on  God's  part,  a  person  so  in 
trouble  or  distress  might  pray  his  heart  out,  and  yet  God  not 
be  in  the  least  obliged  by  all  his  prayers,  either  in  justice  or 
honor,  or  indeed  so  much  as  in  mercy,  to  deliver  him;  for 
mercy  is  free,  and  misery  can  not  oblige  it.  In  a  word, 
prayer  procures  deliverance  from  trouble,  just  as  Naaman's 
dipping  himself  seven  times  in  Jordan  procured  him  a  deliv 
erance  from  his  leprosy ;  not  by  any  virtue  in  itself  adequate 
to  so  great  an  effect,  you  may  be  sure ;  but  from  this,  that  it 
was  appointed  by  God  as  the  condition  of  his  recovery ;  and 
so  obliged  the  power  of  him,  who  appointed  it,  to  give  force 
and  virtue  to  his  own  institution,  beyond  what  the  nature  of 
the  thing  itself  could  otherwise  have  raised  it  to. 

Let  this  therefore  be  fixed  upon,  as  the  groundwork  of 
what  we  are  to  say  upon  this  subject:  that  prayer  prevails 
with  God  for  the  blessing  that  we  pray  for,  neither  by  way 
of  information,  nor  yet  of  persuasion,  and  much  less  by  the 
importunity  of  him  who  prays,  and  least  of  all  by  any  worth 
in  the  prayer  itself,  equal  to  the  thing  prayed  for ;  but  it  pre 
vails  solely  and  entirely  upon  this  account,  that  it  is  freely 
appointed  by  God,  as  the  stated,  allowed  condition  upon  which 
he  will  dispense  his  blessings  to  mankind. 

But  before  I  dismiss  this  consideration,  it  may  be  inquired, 
whence  it  is  that  prayer,  rather  than  any  other  thing,  comes 


300  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  [SEEM.  xv. 

to  be  appointed  by  God  for  this  condition.  In  answer  to 
which;  Though  God's  sovereign  will  be  a  sufficient  reason 
of  its  own  counsels  and  determinations,  and  consequently  a 
more  than  sufficient  answer  to  all  our  inquiries,  yet,  since 
God  in  his  infinite  wisdom  still  adapts  means  to  ends,  and 
never  appoints  a  thing  to  any  use  but  what  it  has  a  partic 
ular  and  a  natural  fitness  for,  I  shall  therefore  presume  to 
assign  a  reason  why  prayer,  before  all  other  things,  should  be 
appointed  to  this  noble  use  of  being  the  condition  and  glo 
rious  conduit,  whereby  to  derive  the  bounties  of  heaven  upon 
the  sons  of  men :  and  it  is  this ;  because  prayer,  of  all  other 
acts  of  a  rational  nature,  does  most  peculiarly  qualify  a  man 
to  be  a  fit  object  of  the  divine  favor,  by  being  most  eminently 
and  properly  an  act  of  dependence  upon  God ;  since  to  pray, 
or  beg  a  thing  of  another,  in  the  very  nature  and  notion  of 
it,  imports  these  two  things:  1.  That  the  person  praying 
stands  in  need  of  some  good,  which  he  is  not  able  by  any 
power  of  his  own  to  procure  for  himself:  and,  2.  That  he  ac 
knowledges  it  in  the  power  and  pleasure  of  the  person  whom 
he  prays  to,  to  confer  it  upon  him.  And  this  is  properly  that 
which  men  call  to  depend. 

But  some  may  reply,  There  is  an  universal  dependence  of 
all  things  upon  God ;  forasmuch  as  he,  being  the  great  foun 
tain  and  source  of  being,  first  created,  and  since  supports 
them  by  the  word  of  his  power ;  and  consequently  that  this 
dependence  belongs  indifferently  to  the  wicked  as  well  as  to 
the  just,  whose  prayer  nevertheless  is  declared  an  abomination 
to  God. 

But  to  this  the  answer  is  obvious,  That  the  dependence 
here  spoken  of  is  meant,  not  of  a  natural,  but  of  a  moral 
dependence.  The  first  is  necessary,  the  other  voluntary. 
The  first  common  to  all,  the  other  proper  to  the  pious.  The 
first  respects  God  barely  as  a  Creator,  the  other  addresses  to 
him  as  a  Father.  Now  such  a  dependence  upon  God  it  is, 
that  is  properly  seen  in  prayer.  And  being  so,  if  we  should 
in  all  humble  reverence  set  ourselves  to  examine  the  wisdom 
of  the  divine  proceeding  in  this  matter,  even  by  the  measures 
of  our  own  reason,  what  could  be  more  rationally  thought  of 
for  the  properest  instrument  to  bring  down  God's  blessings 
upon  the  world,  than  such  a  temper  of  mind  as  makes  a 


ECCLFS.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  301 

man  disown  all  ability  in  himself  to  supply  his  own  wants, 
and  at  the  same  time  own  a  transcendent  fullness  end  suffi 
ciency  in  God  to  do  it  for  him  ?  And  what  can  be  more  agree 
able  to  all  principles  both  of  reason  and  religion  than  that  a 
creature  endued  with  understanding  and  will  should  acknowl 
edge  that  dependence  upon  his  Maker,  by  a  free  act  of  choice, 
which  other  creatures  have  upon  him,  only  by  necessity  of 
nature  ? 

But  still,  there  is  one  objection  more  against  our  foregoing 
assertion,  viz.,  That  prayer  obtains  the  things  prayed  for,  only 
as  a  condition,  and  not  by  way  of  importunity  or  persuasion  ; 
for  is  not  prayer  said  to  prevail  by  frequency,  Luke  xviii.  7, 
and  by  fervency,  or  earnestness,  in  James  v.  16,  and  is  not  this 
a  fair  proof  that  God  is  importuned  and  persuaded  into  a  grant 
of  our  petitions  ? 

To  this  I  answer  two  things  ;  1.  That  wheresoever  God  is 
said  to  answer  prayers,  either  for  their  frequency  or  fervency, 
it  is  spoken  of  him  only  Mpwn-oTraOws,  according  to  the  man 
ner  of  men  ;  and  consequently  ought  to  be  understood  only 
of  the  effect  or  issue  of  such  prayers,  in  the  success  certainly 
attending  them,  and  not  of  the  manner  of  their  efficiency, 
that  it  is  by  persuading  or  working  upon  the  passions :  as  if 
we  should  say,  frequent,  fervent,  and  importunate  prayers 
are  as  certainly  followed  with  God's  grant  of  the  thing  prayed 
for,  as  men  use  to  grant  that  which,  being  overcome  by 
excessive  importunity  and  persuasion,  they  can  not  find  in 
their  hearts  to  deny.  2.  I  answer  further,  That  frequency 
and  fervency  of  prayer  prove  effectual  to  procure  of  God  the 
things  prayed  for,  upon  no  other  account  but  as  they  are  acts 
of  dependence  upon  God :  which  dependence  we  have  already 
proved  to  be  that  thing  essentially  included  in  prayer,  for 
which  God  has  been  pleased  to  make  prayer  the  condition, 
upon  which  he  determines  to  grant  men  such  things  as  they 
need  and  duly  apply  to  him  for.  So  that  still  there  is  nothing 
of  persuasion  in  the  case. 

And  thus  having  shown  (and  I  hope  fully  and  clearly)  how 
prayer  operates  towards  the  obtaining  of  the  divine  blessings ; 
namely,  as  a  condition  appointed  by  God  for  that  purpose,  and 
no  otherwise :  and  withal,  for  what  reason  it  is  singled  out 
of  all  other  acts  of  a  rational  nature,  to  be  this  condition ; 


302  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  [SERM.  xv. 

namely,  because  it  is  the  grand  instance  of  such  a  nature's 
dependence  upon  God  :  we  shall  now  from  the  same  principle 
infer  also,  upon  what  account  the  highest  reverence  of  God 
is  so  indispensably  required  of  us  in  prayer,  and  all  sort  of 
irreverence  so  diametrically  opposite  to,  and  destructive  of, 
the  very  nature  of  it.  And  it  will  appear  to  be  upon  this, 
that  in  what  degree  any  one  lays  aside  his  reverence  of  God, 
in  the  same  he  also  quits  his  dependence  upon  him  :  foras 
much  as  in  every  irreverent  act,  a  man  treats  God  as  if  he 
had  indeed  no  need  of  him,  and  behaves  himself  as  if  he  stood 
upon  his  own  bottom,  absolute  and  self-sufficient.  This  is  the 
natural  language,  the  true  signification  and  import  of  all 
irreverence. 

Now  in  all  addresses,  either  to  God  or  man,  by  speech,  our 
reverence  to  them  must  consist  of,  and  show  itself  in  these 
two  things : 

First,  A  careful  regulation  of  our  thoughts,  that  are  to  dic 
tate  and  to  govern  our  words ;  which  is  done  by  premedita 
tion  :  and  secondly,  a  due  ordering  of  our  words,  that  are  to 
proceed  from  and  to  express  our  thoughts ;  which  is  done  by 
pertinence  and  brevity  of  expression. 

David,  directing  his  prayer  to  God,  joins  these  two  to 
gether  as  the  two  great  integral  parts  of  it,  in  Psalm  xix.  14. 
Let  the  words  of  my  mouth,  and  the  meditations  of  my  heart, 
be  acceptable  in  thy  sight,  0  Lord.  So  that  it  seems  his  prayer 
adequately  and  entirely  consisted  of  those  two  things,  medi 
tation  and  expression,  as  it  were  the  matter  and  form  of  that 
noble  composure.  There  being  no  mention  at  all  of  distortion 
of  face,  sanctified  grimace,  solemn  wink,  or  foaming  at  the 
mouth,  and  the  like ;  all  which  are  circumstances  of  prayer 
of  a  later  date,  and  brought  into  request  by  those  fantastic 
zealots  who  had  a  way  of  praying,  as  astonishing  to  the  eyes, 
as  to  the  ears  of  those  that  heard  them.  Well  then,  the  first 
ingredient  of  a  pious  and  reverential  prayer  is  a  previous 
regulation  of  the  thoughts,  as  the  text  expresses  it  most 
emphatically;  Let  not  thy  heart  be  hasty  to  utter  any  thing 
before  God;  that  is,  in  other  words,  let  it  not  venture  to 
throw  out  its  crude,  extemporary,  sudden,  and  misshapen 
conceptions  in  the  face  of  infinite  perfection.  Let  not  thy 
heart  conceive  and  bring  forth  together :  this  is  monstrous 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  303 

and  unnatural.  All  abortion  is  from  infirmity  and  defect. 
And  time  is  required  to  form  the  issue  of  the  mind,  as  well 
as  that  of  the  body.  The  fitness  or  unfitness  of  the  first 
thoughts  can  not  be  judged  of  but  by  reflection  of  the  sec 
ond  :  and  be  the  invention  never  so  fruitful,  yet  in  the  mind, 
as  in  the  earth,  that  which  is  cast  into  it  must  lie  hid  and 
covered  for  a  while,  before  it  can  be  fit  to  shoot  forth.  These 
are  the  methods  of  nature,  and  it  is  seldom  but  the  acts  of 
religion  conform  to  them. 

He  who  is  to  pray,  would  he  seriously  judge  of  the  work 
that  is  before  him,  has  more  to  consider  of  than  either  his 
heart  can  hold,  or  his  head  well  turn  itself  to.  Prayer  is 
one  of  the  greatest  and  the  hardest  works  that  a  man  has  to 
do  in  this  world  ;  and  was  ever  any  thing  difficult  or  glorious 
achieved  by  a  sudden  cast  of  a  thought  ?  a  flying  stricture 
of  the  imagination  ?  Presence  of  mind  is  indeed  good,  but 
haste  is  not  so.  And  therefore,  let  this  be  concluded  upon, 
that  in  the  business  of  prayer,  to  pretend  to  reverence  when 
there  is  no  premeditation,  is  both  impudence  and  contradic 
tion. 

Now  this  premeditation  ought  to  respect  these  three  things : 
1.  The  person  whom  we  pray  to ;  2.  The  matter  of  our  prayers ; 
and  3.  The  order  and  disposition  of  them. 

1.  And  first,  for  the  person  whom  we  pray  to.  The  same 
is  to  employ,  who  must  needs  also  nonplus  and  astonish  thy 
meditations,  and  be  made  the  object  of  thy  thoughts,  who 
infinitely  transcends  them.  For  all  the  knowing  and  reason 
ing  faculties  of  the  soul  are  utterly  baffled  and  at  a  loss  when 
they  offer  at  any  idea  of  the  great  God.  Nevertheless,  since 
it  is  hard,  if  not  impossible,  to  imprint  an  awe  upon  the  affec 
tions,  without  suitable  notions  first  formed  in  the  apprehen 
sions,  we  must  in  our  prayers  endeavor  at  least  to  bring  these 
as  near  to  God  as  we  can,  by  considering  such  of  his  divine 
perfections  as  have,  by  their  effects,  in  a  great  measure,  mani 
fested  themselves  to  our  senses,  and,  in  a  much  greater,  to 
the  discourses  of  our  reason. 

As  first ;  consider  with  thyself  how  great  and  glorious  a 
Being  that  must  needs  be,  that  raised  so  vast  and  beautiful  a 
fabric  as  this  of  the  world  out  of  nothing  with  the  breath 
of  his  mouth,  and  can  and  will,  with  the  same,  reduce  it  to 


304  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  [SERM.  xv. 

nothing  again  ;  and  then  consider  that  this  is  that  high, 
amazing,  incomprehensible  Being  whom  thou  addressest  thy 
pitiful  self  to  in  prayer. 

Consider  next,  his  infinite,  all-searching  knowledge,  which 
looks  through  and  through  the  most  secret  of  our  thoughts, 
ransacks  every  corner  of  the  heart,  ponders  the  most  inward 
designs  and  ends  of  the  soul  in  all  a  man's  actions.  And 
then  consider,  that  this  is  the  God  whom  thou  hast  to  deal 
witlftin  prayer  ;  the  God  who  observes  the  postures,  the  frame 
and  motion  of  thy  mind  in  all  thy  approaches  to  him,  and 
whose  piercing  eye  it  is  impossible  to  elude  or  escape  by  all 
the  tricks  and  arts  of  the  subtilest  and  most  refined  hypocrisy. 
And  lastly,  consider  the  great,  the  fiery,  and  the  implacable 
jealousy  that  he  has  for  his  honor ;  and  that  he  has  no  other 
use  of  the  whole  creation,  but  to  serve  the  ends  of  it :  and, 
above  all,  that  he  will,  in  a  most  peculiar  manner,  be  honored 
of  those  wlio  draw  near  to  him  ;  and  will  by  no  means  suffer 
himself  to  be  mocked  and  affronted,  under  a  pretense  of  being 
worshiped ;  nor  endure  that  a  wretched,  contemptible,  sinful 
creature,  who  is  but  a  piece  of  living  dirt  at  best,  should  at 
the  same  time  bend  the  knee  to  him,  and  spit  in  his  face. 
And  now  consider,  that  this  is  the  God  whom  thou  prayest  to, 
and  whom  thou  usest  with  such  intolerable  indignity  in  every 
unworthy  prayer  thou  puttest  up  to  him  ;  every  bold,  saucy, 
and  familiar  word  that  (upon  confidence  of  being  one  of  God's 
elect)  thou  presumest  to  debase  so  great  a  majesty  with  :  and 
for  an  instance  of  the  dreadful  curse  that  attends  such  a 
daring  irreverence,  consider  how  God  used  Nadab  and  Abihu 
for  venturing  to  offer  strange  fire  before  him  ;  and  then  know, 
that  every  unhallowed,  unfitting  prayer  is  a  strange  fire  ;  a 
fire  that  will  be  sure  to  destroy  the  offering,  though  mercy 
should  spare  the  offerer.  Consider  these  things  seriously, 
deeply,  and  severely,  till  the  consideration  of  them  affects  thy 
heart,  and  humbles  thy  spirit,  with  such  awful  apprehensions 
of  thy  Maker,  and  such  abject  reflections  upon  thyself,  as 
may  lay  thee  in  the  dust  before  him:  and  know,  that  the 
lower  thou  fallest,  the  higher  will  thy  prayer  rebound ;  and 
that  thou  art  never  so  fit  to  pray  to  God  as  when  a  sense  of 
thy  own  unworthiness  makes  thee  ashamed  even  to  speak  to 
him. 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]        Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  305 

2.  The  second  object  of  our  premeditation  is,  the  matter 
of  our  prayers.  For,  as  we  are  to  consider  whom  we  are  to 
pray  to,  so  are  we  to  consider  also  what  we  are  to  pray  for ; 
and  this  requires  no  ordinary  application  of  thought  to  dis 
tinguish  or  judge  of.  Men's  prayers  are  generally  dictated 
by  their  desires,  and  their  desires  are  the  issues  of  their 
affections ;  and  their  affections  are,  for  the  most  part,  influ 
enced  by  their  corruptions.  The  first  constituent  principle 
of  a  well-conceived  prayer  is,  to  know  what  not  to  pray  for : 
which  the  scripture  assures  us  that  some  do  not,  while  they 
pray  for  what  they  may  spend  upon  their  lusts,  James  iv.  3,  ask 
ing  such  things  as  it  is  a  contumely  to  God  to  hear,  and  dam 
nation  to  themselves  to  receive.  No  man  is  to  pray  for  any 
thing  either  sinful,  or  directly  tending  to  sin.  No  man  is  to 
pray  for  a  temptation,  and  much  less  to  desire  God  to  be  his 
tempter ;  which  he  would  certainly  be,  should  he,  at  the  in 
stance  of  any  man's  prayer,  administer  fuel  to  his  sinful  or 
absurd  appetites.  Nor  is  any  one  to  ask  of  God  things  mean 
and  trivial,  and  beneath  the  majesty  of  Heaven  to  be  con 
cerned  about,  or  solemnly  addressed  to  for.  Nor,  lastly,  is 
any  one  to  admit  into  his  petitions  things  superfluous  or  ex 
travagant  ;  such  as  wealth,  greatness,  and  honor :  which  we 
are  so  far  from  being  warranted  to  beg  of  God,  that  we  are 
to  beg  his  grace  to  despise  and  undervalue  them  :  and  it  were 
much  if  the  same  things  should  be  the  proper  objects  both 
of  our  self-denial  and  of  our  prayers  too  5  and  that  we  should 
be  allowed  to  solicit  the  satisfaction,  and  enjoined  to  endeavor 
the  mortification,  of  the  same  desires. 

The  things  that  we  are  to  pray  for  are  either,  1st,  Things 
of  absolute  necessity ;  or,  2dly,  Things  of  unquestionable  char 
ity.  Of  the  first  sort  are  all  spiritual  graces  required  in  us, 
as  the  indispensable  conditions  of  our  salvation ;  such  as  are, 
repentance,  faith,  hope,  charity,  temperance,  and  all  other 
virtues  that  are  either  the  parts  or  principles  of  a  pious  life. 
These  are  to  be  the  prime  subject-matter  of  our  prayers  ;  and 
we  shall  find  that  nothing  conies  this  way  so  easily  from 
heaven  as  those  things  that  will  assuredly  bring  us  to  it. 
The  spirit  dictates  all  such  petitions,  and  God  himself  is  first 
the  author,  and  then  the  fulfiller  of  them ;  owning  and  accept 
ing  them,  both  as  our  duty  and  his  own  production.  The 

VOL.  i.  20 


306  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  [SERM.  XT? 

other  sort  of  things  that  may  allowably  be  prayed  for,  are 
things  of  manifest,  unquestionable  charity:  such  as  are  a 
competent  measure  of  the  innocent  comforts  of  life,  as  health, 
peace,  maintenance,  and  a  success  of  our  honest  labors  :  and 
yet  even  these  but  conditionally,  and  with  perfect  resignation 
to  the  will  and  wisdom  of  the  sovereign  disposer  of  all  that 
belongs  to  us ;  who  (if  he  finds  it  more  for  his  honor  to  have 
us  serve  him  with  sick,  crazy,  languishing  bodies ;  with  pov 
erty,  and  extreme  want  of  all  things;  and  lastly,  with  our 
country  all  in  a  flame  about  our  ears)  ought,  in  all  this,  and 
much  more,  to  overrule  our  prayers  and  desires  into  an  abso 
lute  acquiescence  in  his  all-wise  disposal  of  things ;  and  to 
convince  us  that  our  prayers  are  sometimes  best  answered 
when  our  desires  are  most  opposed. 

In  fine,  to  state  the  whole  matter  of  our  prayers  in  one 
word ;  Nothing  can  be  fit  for  us  to  pray  for,  but  what  is  fit 
and  honorable  for  our  great  mediator  and  master  of  requests, 
Jesus  Christ  himself,  to  intercede  for.  This  is  to  be  the 
unchangeable  rule  and  measure  of  all  our  petitions.  And 
then,  if  Christ  is  to  convey  these  our  petitions  to  his  Father, 
can  any  one  dare  to  make  him,  who  was  holiness  and  purity 
itself,  an  advocate  and  solicitor  for  his  lusts  ?  Him,  who  was 
nothing  but  meekness,  lowliness,  and  humility,  his  provide- 
tore  for  such  things  as  can  only  feed  his  pride  and  flush  his 
ambition  ?  No,  certainly ;  when  we  come  as  suppliants  to  the 
throne  of  grace,  where  Christ  sits  as  intercessor  at  God's  right 
hand,  nothing  can  be  fit  to  proceed  out  of  our  mouth  but 
what  is  fit  to  pass  through  his. 

3dly,  The  third  and  last  thing  that  calls  for  a  previous 
meditation  to  our  prayers  is,  the  order  and  disposition  of 
them ;  for  though  God  does  not  command  us  to  set  off  our 
prayers  with  dress  and  artifice,  to  flourish  it  in  trope  and 
metaphor,  to  beg  our  daily  bread  in  blank  verse,  or  to  show 
any  thing  of  the  poet  in  our  devotions  but  indigence  and 
want ;  I  say,  though  God  is  far  from  requiring  such  things  of 
us  in  our  prayers,  yet  he  requires  that  we  should  manage 
them  with  sense  and  reason.  Fineness  is  not  expected,  but 
decency  is ;  and  though  we  can  not  declaim  as  orators,  yet  he 
will  have  us  speak  like  men,  and  tender  him  the  results  of 
that  understanding  and  judgment  that  essentially  constitute 
a  rational  nature. 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  307 

But  I  shall  briefly  cast  what  I  have  to  say  upon  this  par 
ticular  into  these  following  assertions  : 

1st,  That  nothing  can  express  our  reverence  to  God  in 
prayer,  that  would  pass  for  irreverence  towards  a  great  man. 
Let  any  subject  tender  his  prince  a  petition  fraught  with  non 
sense  and  incoherence,  confusion  and  impertinence,  and  can 
he  expect  that  majesty  should  answer  it  with  any  thing  but  a 
deaf  ear,  a  frowning'  eye,  or,  (at  best,)  vouchsafe  it  any  other 
reward  but,  by  a  gracious  oblivion,  to  forgive  the  person,  and 
forget  the  petition  ? 

2dly,  Nothing  absurd  and  irrational,  and  such  as  a  wise 
man  would  despise,  can  be  acceptable  to  God  in  prayer.  Sol 
omon  expressly  tells  us  in  Ecclesiastes  v.  4,  that  God  has  no 
pleasure  in  fools ;  nor  is  it  possible  that  an  infinite  wisdom 
should.  The  scripture  all  along  expresses  sin  and  wickedness 
by  the  name  of  folly ;  and  therefore  certainly  folly  is  too  near 
of  kin  to  it  to  find  any  approbation  from  God  in  so  great  a 
duty :  it  is  the  simplicity  of  the  heart,  and  not  of  the  head, 
that  is  the  best  inditer  of  our  petitions.  That  which  proceeds 
from  the  latter  is  undoubtedly  the  sacrifice  of  fools ;  and  God 
is  never  more  weary  of  sacrifice  than  when  a  fool  is  the  priest, 
and  folly  the  oblation. 

3dly  and  lastly,  Nothing  rude,  slight,  and  careless,  or  in 
deed  less  than  the  very  best  that  a  man  can  offer,  can  be 
acceptable  or  pleasing  to  God  in  prayer.  If  ye  offer  the  blind 
for  sacrifice,  is  it  not  evil  ?  If  ye  offer  tlie  lame  and  the  sick, 
is  it  not  evil  ?  Offer  it  now  to  thy  governor,  and  see  whether  he 
will  be  pleased  with  thee,  or  accept  thy  person,  saith  the  Lord 
of  hosts.  Malachi  i.  8.  God  rigidly  expects  a  return  of  his 
own  gifts ;  and  where  he  has  given  ability,  will  be  served  by 
acts  proportionable  to  it.  And  he  who  has  parts  to  raise  and 
propagate  his  own  honor  by,  but  none  to  employ  in  the  wor 
ship  of  him  that  gave  them,  does  (as  I  may  so  express  it) 
refuse  to  wear  God's  livery  in  his  own  service,  adds  sacrilege 
to  profaneness,  strips  and  starves  his  devotions,  and,  in  a 
word,  falls  directly  under  the  dint  of  that  curse  denounced 
in  the  last  verse  of  the  first  of  Malachi,  Cursed  be  the  deceiver, 
that  hath  in  his  flock  a  male,  and  voweth,  and  sacrificeth  to  the 
Lord  a  corrupt  thing.  The  same  is  here,  both  the  deceiver 
and  the  deceived  too ;  for  God  very  well  knows  what  he  gives 


308  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  [SERM.  xv. 

men,  and  why ;  and  where  he  has  bestowed  judgment,  learn 
ing,  and  utterance,  will  not  endure  that  men  should  be  ac 
curate  in  their  discourse,  and  loose  in  their  devotions ;  or 
think  that  the  great  author  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift  will 
be  put  off  with  ramble,  and  confused  talk,  babble,  and  tau 
tology. 

And  thus  much  for  the  order  and  disposition  of  our 
prayers,  which  certainly  requires  precedent  thought  and  med 
itation.  God  has  declared  himself  the  God  of  order  in  all 
things ;  and  will  have  it  observed  in  what  he  commands 
others,  as  well  as  in  what  he  does  himself.  Order  is  the 
great  rule  or  art  by  which  God  made  the  world,  and  by  which 
he  still  governs  it :  nay,  the  world  itself  is  nothing  else ;  and 
all  this  glorious  system  of  things  is  but  the  chaos  put  into 
order :  and  how  then  can  God,  who  has  so  eminently  owned 
himself  concerned  for  this  excellent  thing,  brook  such  absurd 
ity  and  confusion  as  the  slovenly  and  profane  negligence  of 
some  treats  him  with  in  their  most  solemn  addresses  to  him  P 
All  which  is  the  natural  unavoidable  consequent  of  unpre- 
paredness  and  want  of  premeditation ;  without  which,  whoso 
ever  presumes  to  pray  can  not  be  so  properly  said  to  approach 
to,  as  to  break  in  upon  God.  And  surely  he  who  is  so  hardy 
as  to  do  so,  has  no  reason  in  the  earth  to  expect  that  the  suc 
cess  which  follows  his  prayers  should  be  greater  than  the 
preparation  that  goes  before  them. 

Now  from  what  has  been  hitherto  discoursed  of,  this  first 
and  grand  qualification  of  a  pious  and  devout  prayer,  to  wit, 
premeditation  of  thought,  what  can  be  so  naturally  and  so 
usefully  inferred,  as  the  high  expediency,  or  rather  the  abso 
lute  necessity  of  a  set  form  of  prayer  to  guide  our  devotions 
by  ?  We  have  lived  in  an  age  that  has  despised,  contradicted, 
and  counteracted  all  the  principles  and  practices  of  the  primi 
tive  Christians,  in  taking  the  measures  of  their  duty  both  to 
God  and  man,  and  of  their  behavior  both  in  matters  civil 
and  religious ;  but  in  nothing  more  scandalously  than  in  their 
vile  abuse  of  the  great  duty  of  prayer ;  concerning  which, 
though  it  may  with  the  clearest  truth  be  affirmed,  that  there 
has  been  no  church  yet  of  any  account  in  the  Christian  world, 
but  what  has  governed  its  public  worship  of  God  by  a  liturgy 
or  set  form  of  prayer;  yet  these  enthusiastic  innovators, 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  309 

the  bold  and  blind  reformers  of  all  antiquity,  and  wiser  than 
the  whole  catholic  church  besides,  introduced  into  the  room 
of  it  a  saucy,  senseless,  extemporary  way  of  speaking  to  God ; 
affirming  that  this  was  a  praying  by  the  Spirit ;  and  that  the 
use  of  all  set  forms  was  stinting  of  the  Spirit.  A  pretense,  I 
confess,  popular  and  plausible  enough  with  such  idiots  as  take 
the  sound  of  words  for  the  sense  of  them.  But  for  the  full 
confutation  of  it,  (which,  I  hope,  shall  be  done  both  easily  and 
briefly  too,)  I  shall  advance  this  one  assertion  in  direct  con 
tradiction  to  that ;  namely, 

That  the  praying  by  a  set  form  is  not  a  stinting  of  the 
Spirit ;  and  the  praying  extempore  truly  and  properly  is  so. 

For  the  proving  and  making  out  of  which,  we  will  first 
consider,  what  it  is  to  pray  by  the  Spirit :  a  thing  much  talked 
of,  but  not  so  convenient  for  the  talkers  of  it,  and  pretenders 
to  it,  to  have  it  rightly  stated  and  understood.  In  short,  it 
includes  in  it  these  two  things  : 

1st,  A  praying  with  the  heart,  which  is  sometimes  called 
the  spirit,  or  inward  man ;  and  so  it  is  properly  opposed  to 
hypocritical  lip-devotions,  in  which  the  heart  or  spirit  does 
not  go  along  with  a  man's  words. 

2dly,  It  includes  in  it  also  a  praying  according  to  the  rules 
prescribed  by  God's  holy  Spirit,  and  held  forth  to  us  in  his 
revealed  word,  which  word  was  both  dictated  and  confirmed 
by  this  Spirit ;  and  so  it  is  opposed  to  the  praying  unlawfully, 
or  unwarrantably ;  and  that  either  in  respect  of  the  matter  or 
manner  of  our  prayers.  As,  when  we  desire  of  God  such 
things,  or  in  such  a  way,  as  the  Spirit  of  God,  speaking  in  his 
holy  word,  does  by  no  means  warrant  or  approve  of.  So  that 
to  pray  by  the  Spirit,  signifies  neither  more  nor  less  but  to 
pray  knowingly,  heartily,  and  affectionately  for  such  things, 
and  in  such  a  manner,  as  the  Holy  Ghost  in  scripture  either 
commands  or  allows  of.  As  for  any  other  kind  of  praying  by 
the  Spirit,  upon  the  best  inquiry  that  I  can  make  into  these 
matters,  I  can  find  none.  And  if  some  say  (as  I  know  they 
both  impudently  and  blasphemously  do)  that,  to  pray  by  the 
Spirit  is  to  have  the  Spirit  immediately  inspiring  them,  and 
by  such  inspiration  speaking  within  them,  and  so  dictating 
their  prayers  to  them,  let  them  either  produce  plain  scripture, 
or  do  a  miracle  to  prove  this  by.  But  till  then,  he  who  shall 


310  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  [SEKM.  xv. 

consider  what  kind  of  prayers  these  pretenders  to  the  Spirit 
have  been  notable  for,  will  find  that  they  have  as  little  cause 
to  father  their  prayers,  as  their  practices,  upon  the  Spirit  of 
God. 

These  two  things  are  certain,  and  I  do  particularly  recom 
mend  them  to  your  observation.  One,  That  this  way  of 
praying  by  the  Spirit,  as  they  call  it,  was  begun  and  first 
brought  into  use  here  in  England  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  days, 
by  a  Popish  priest  and  Dominican  friar,  one  Faithful  Com- 
min  by  name ;  who  counterfeiting  himself  a  Protestant,  and  a 
zealot  of  the  highest  form,  set  up  this  new  spiritual  way  of 
praying,  with  a  design  to  bring  the  people  first  to  a  contempt, 
and  from  thence  to  an  utter  hatred  and  disuse  of  our  common 
prayer;  which  he  still  reviled  as  only  a  translation  of  the 
mass,  thereby  to  distract  men's  minds,  and  to  divide  our 
church.  And  this  he  did  with  such  success,  that  we  have 
lived  to  see  the  effects  of  his  labors  in  the  utter  subversion 
of  church  and  state.  Which  hellish  negotiation,  when  this 
malicious  hypocrite  came  to  Rome  to  give  the  pope  an  ac 
count  of,  he  received  of  him,  (as  so  notable  a  service  well 
deserved,)  besides  a  thousand  thanks,  two  thousand  ducats 
for  his  pains.  So  that  now  you  see  here  the  original  of  this 
extempore  way  of  praying  by  the  Spirit.  The  other  thing 
that  I  would  observe  to  you  is,  that  in  the  neighbor  nation 
of  Scotland,  one  of  the  greatest  *  monsters  of  men  that,  I 
believe,  ever  lived,  and  actually  in  league  with  the  devil,  was 
yet,  by  the  confession  of  all  that  heard  him,  the  most  excel 
lent  at  this  extempore  way  of  praying  by  the  Spirit  of  any 
man  in  his  time ;  none  was  able  to  come  near  him,  or  to  com 
pare  with  him.  But  surely  now,  he  who  shall  venture  to  as 
cribe  the  prayers  of  such  a  wretch,  made  up  of  adulteries, 
incest,  witchcraft,  and  other  villainies  not  to  be  named,  to 
the  Spirit  of  God,  may  as  well  strike  in  with  the  Pharisees, 
and  ascribe  the  miracles  of  Christ  to  the  devil.  And  thus 
having  shown  both  what  ought  to  be  meant  by  praying  by 
the  Spirit,  and  what  ought  not,  can  not  be  meant  by  it,  let 
us  now  see  whether  a  set  form,  or  this  extemporary  way,  be 
the  greater  hinderer  and  stinter  of  it :  in  order  to  which,  I 
shall  lay  down  these  three  assertions  : 

*  Major  John  Weyer.    See  Ravaillac  Rediviv. 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  311 

1st,  That  the  soul  or  mind  of  man  is  but  of  a  limited  na 
ture  in  all  its  workings,  and  consequently  can  not  supply  two 
distinct  faculties  at  the  same  time,  to  the  same  hight  of 
operation. 

2dly,  That  the  finding  words  and  expressions  for  prayer  is 
the  proper  business  of  the  brain  and  the  invention ;  and  that 
the  finding  devotion  and  affection  to  accompany  and  go  along 
with  those  expressions  is  properly  the  work  and  business  of 
the  heart. 

3dly,  That  this  devotion  and  affection  is  indispensably  re 
quired  in  prayer,  as  the  principal  and  most  essential  part  of 
it,  and  that  in  which  the  spirituality  of  it  does  most  properly 
consist. 

Now  from  these  three  things  put  together,  this  must  natu 
rally  and  necessarily  follow  :  that  as  spiritual  prayer,  or  pray 
ing  by  the  Spirit,  taken  in  the  right  sense  of  the  word,  con 
sists  properly  in  that  affection  and  devotion  that  the  heart 
exercises  and  employs  in  the  work  of  prayer,  so,  whatsoever 
gives  the  soul  scope  and  liberty  to  exercise  and  employ  this 
affection  and  devotion,  that  does  most  effectually  help  and 
enlarge  the  spirit  of  prayer  ;  and  whatsoever  diverts  the  soul 
from  employing  such  affection  and  devotion,  that  does  most 
directly  stint  and  hinder  it.  Accordingly,  let  this  now  be  our 
rule  whereby  to  judge  of  the  efficacy  of  a  set  form,  and  of 
the  extemporary  way  in  the  present  business.  As  for  a  set 
form,  in  which  the  words  are  ready  prepared  to  our  hands, 
the  soul  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  attend  to  the  work  of  rais 
ing  the  affections  and  devotions,  to  go  along  with  those  words ; 
so  that  all  the  powers  of  the  soul  are  took  up  in  applying  the 
heart  to  this  great  duty ;  and  it  is  the  exercise  of  the  heart 
(as  has  been  already  shown)  that  is  truly  and  properly  a  pray 
ing  by  the  Spirit.  On  the  contrary,  in  all  extempore  prayer, 
the  powers  and  faculties  of  the  soul  are  called  off  from  dealing 
with  the  heart  and  the  affections ;  and  that  both  in  the 
speaker  and  in  the  hearer ;  both  in  him  who  makes,  and  in 
him  who  is  to  join  in  such  prayers. 

And  first,  for  the  minister  who  makes  and  utters  such  ex 
tempore  prayers.  He  is  wholly  employing  his  invention,  both 
to  conceive  matter,  and  to  find  words  and  expressions  to  clothe 
it  in :  this  is  certainly  the  work  which  takes  up  his  mind  in 


312  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  [SERM.  xv. 

this  exercise;  and  since  the  nature  of  man's  mind  is  such 
that  it  can  not  with  the  same  vigor,  at  the  same  time,  attend 
the  work  of  invention  and  that  of  raising  the  affections  also, 
nor  measure  out  the  same  supply  of  spirits  and  intention  for 
the  carrying  on  the  operations  of  the  head  and  those  of  the 
heart  too,  it  is  certain  that,  while  the  head  is  so  much  em 
ployed,  the  heart  must  be  idle  and  very  little  employed,  and 
perhaps  not  at  all ;  and  consequently,  if  to  pray  by  the  Spirit 
be  to  pray  with  the  heart  and  the  affections,  it  is  also  as 
certain  that  while  a  man  prays  extempore,  he  does  not  pray 
by  the  Spirit ;  nay,  the  very  truth  of  it  is,  that  while  he  is  so 
doing,  he  is  not  praying  at  all,  but  he  is  studying ;  he  is  beat 
ing  his  brain,  while  he  should  be  drawing  out  his  affections. 

And  then  for  the  people  that  are  to  hear  and  join  with  him 
in  such  prayers ;  it  is  manifest  that  they,  not  knowing  before 
hand  what  the  minister  will  say,  must,  as  soon  as  they  do 
hear  him,  presently  busy  and  bestir  their  minds  both  to  ap 
prehend  and  understand  the  meaning  of  what  they  hear  ;  and 
withal,  to  judge  whether  it  be  of  such  a  nature  as  to  be  fit 
for  them  to  join  and  concur  with  him  in.  So  that  the  people 
also  are,  by  this  course,  put  to  study,  and  to  employ  their  ap 
prehending  and  judging  faculties,  while  they  should  be  exert 
ing  their  affections  and  devotions  ;  and  consequently,  by  this 
means,  the  spirit  of  prayer  is  stinted,  as  well  in  the  congre 
gation  that  follows,  as  in  the  minister  who  first  conceives  a 
prayer  after  their  extempore  way  :  which  is  a  truth  so  clear, 
and  indeed  self-evident,  that  it  is  impossible  that  it  should 
need  any  further  arguments  to  demonstrate  or  make  it  out. 

The  sum  of  all  this  is :  That,  since  a  set  form  of  prayer 
leaves  the  soul  wholly  free  to  employ  its  affections  and  de 
votions,  in  which  the  spirit  of  prayer  does  most  properly  con 
sist,  it  follows,  that  the  spirit  of  prayer  is  thereby,  in  a  sin 
gular  manner,  helped,  promoted,  and  enlarged ;  and  since,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  extempore  way  withdraws  and  takes  off 
the  soul  from  employing  its  affections,  and  engages  it  chiefly, 
if  not  wholly,  about  the  use  of  its  invention,  it  as  plainly 
follows,  that  the  spirit  of  prayer  is  by  this  means  unavoidably 
cramped  and  hindered,  and  (to  use  their  own  word)  stinted : 
which  was  the  proposition  that  I  undertook  to  prove.  But 
there  are  two  things,  I  confess,  that  are  extremely  hindered 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]        Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  313 

and  stinted  by  a  set  form  of  prayer,  and  equally  furthered 
and  enlarged  by  the  extempore  way ;  which,  without  all  doubt, 
is  the  true  cause  why  the  former  is  so  much  decried,  and  the 
latter  so  much  extolled,  by  the  men  whom  we  are  now  plead 
ing  with.  The  first  of  which  is  pride  and  ostentation ;  the 
other,  faction  and  sedition. 

1.  And  first  for  pride.  I  do  not  in  the  least  question,  but 
the  chief  design  of  such  as  use  the  extempore  way  is  to 
amuse  the  unthinking  rabble  with  an  admiration  of  their 
gifts ;  their  whole  devotion  proceeding  from  no  other  prin 
ciple  but  only  a  love  to  hear  themselves  talk.  And  I  believe 
it  would  put  Lucifer  himself  hard  to  it,  to  outvie  the  pride  of 
one  of  those  fellows  pouring  out  his  extempore  stuff  amongst 
his  ignorant,  whining,  factious  followers,  listening  to,  and 
applauding  his  copious  flow  and  cant  with  the  ridiculous 
accents  of  their  impertinent  groans.  And,  the  truth  is,  ex 
tempore  prayer,  even  when  best  and  most  dexterously  per 
formed,  is  nothing  else  but  a  business  of  invention  and  wit, 
(such  as  it  is,)  and  requires  no  more  to  it  but  a  teeming  im 
agination,  a  bold  front,  and  a  ready  expression  ;  and  deserves 
much  the  same  commendation  (were  it  not  in  a  matter  too 
serious  to  be  sudden  upon)  which  is  due  to  extempore  verses : 
only  with  this  difference,  that  there  is  necessary  to  these 
latter  a  competent  measure  of  wit  and  learning,  whereas  the 
former  may  be  done  with  very  little  wit,  and  no  learning  at  all. 

And  now,  can  any  sober  person  think  it  reasonable,  that  the 
public  devotions  of  a  whole  congregation  should  be  under  the 
conduct  and  at  the  mercy  of  a  pert,  empty,  conceited  holder- 
forth,  whose  chief  (if  not  sole)  intent  is  to  vaunt  his  spiritual 
clack,  and  (as  I  may  so  speak)  to  pray  prizes  ;  whereas  prayer 
is  a  duty  that  recommends  itself  to  the  acceptance  of  Al 
mighty  God  by  no  other  qualification  so  much  as  by  the  pro- 
foundest  humility,  and  the  lowest  esteem  that  a  man  can  pos 
sibly  have  of  himself? 

Certainly  the  extemporizing  faculty  is  never  more  out  of  its 
element  than  in  the  pulpit;  though  even  here  it  is  much 
more  excusable  in  a  sermon  than  in  a  prayer ;  forasmuch  as 
in  that,  a  man  addresses  himself  but  to  men  —  men  like  him 
self,  whom  he  may  therefore  make  bold  with;  as  no  doubt 
for  so  doing  they  will  also  make  bold  with  him.  Besides  the 


314  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  [SERM.  xv. 

peculiar  advantage  attending  all  such  sudden  conceptions, 
that,  as  they  are  quickly  born,  so  they  quickly  die :  it  being 
seldom  known,  where  the  speaker  has  so  very  fluent  an  inven 
tion,  but  the  hearer  also  has  the  gift  of  as  fluent  a  memory. 

2dly,  The  other  thing  that  has  been  hitherto  so  little  be 
friended  by  a  set  form  of  prayer,  and  so  very  much  by  the 
extempore  way,  is  faction  and  sedition.  It  has  been  always 
found  an  excellent  way  of  girding  at  the  government  in  scrip 
ture  phrase.  And  we  all  know  the  common  dialect  in  which 
the  great  masters  of  this  art  used  to  pray  for  the  king,  and 
which  may  justly  pass  for  only  a  cleanlier  and  more  refined 
kind  of  libelling  him  in  tlie  Lord.  As,  tJiat  God  would  turn  his 
heart,  and  open  his  eyes  :  as  if  he  were  a  pagan  yet  to  be  con 
verted  to  Christianity;  with  many  other  sly,  virulent,  and 
malicious  insinuations,  which  we  may  every  day  hear  of  from 
(those  mints  of  treason  and  rebellion)  their  conventicles  ;  and 
for  which,  and  a  great  deal  less,  some  princes  and  govern 
ments  would  make  them  not  only  eat  their  words,  but  the 
tongue  that  spoke  them  too.  In  fine,  let  all  their  extempore 
harangues  be  considered  and  duly  weighed,  and  you  shall  find 
a  spirit  of  pride,  faction,  and  sedition  predominant  in  them 
all ;  the  only  spirit  which  those  impostors  do  really  and  in 
deed  pray  by. 

I  have  been  so  much  the  longer  and  the  earnester  against 
this  intoxicating,  bewitching  cheat  of  extempore  prayer, 
being  fully  satisfied  in  my  conscience  that  it  has  been  all 
along  the  devil's  masterpiece  and  prime  engine  to  overthrow 
our  church  by.  For  I  look  upon  this  as  a  most  unanswerable 
truth,  that  whatsoever  renders  the  public  worship  of  God  con 
temptible  amongst  us,  must,  in  the  same  degree,  weaken  and 
discredit  our  whole  religion.  And  I  hope  I  have  also  proved 
it  to  be  a  truth-  altogether  as  clear,  that  this  extempore  way 
naturally  brings  all  the  contempt  upon  the  worship  of  God, 
that  both  the  folly  and  faction  of  men  can  possibly  expose  it 
to :  and  therefore,  as  a  thing  neither  subservient  to  the  true 
purposes  of  religion,  nor  grounded  upon  principles  of  reason, 
nor,  lastly,  suitable  to  the  practice  of  antiquity,  ought  by  all 
means  to  be  exploded  and  cast  out  of  every  sober  and  well- 
ordered  church;  or  that  will  be  sure  to  throw  the  church 
itself  out  of  doors. 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  315 

And  thus  I  have  at  length  finished  what  I  had  to  say  of 
the  first  ingredient  of  a  pious  and  reverential  prayer,  which 
was  premeditation  of  thought,  prescribed  to  us  in  these  words, 
Let  not  thy  mouth  be  rash,  nor  thy  heart  be  hasty  to  utter  any 
thing  before  God.  Which  excellent  words  and  most  wise  ad 
vice  of  Solomon,  whosoever  can  reconcile  to  the  expediency, 
decency,  or  usefulness  of  extempore  prayer,  I  shall  acknowl 
edge  him  a  man  of  greater  ability  and  parts  of  mind  than 
Solomon  himself. 

The  other  ingredient  of  a  reverential  and  duly  qualified 
prayer  is  a  pertinent  brevity  of  expression,  mentioned  and  rec 
ommended  in  that  part  of  the  text,  Therefore  let  thy  words  be 
few.  But  this  I  can  not  dispatch  now,  and  therefore  shall 
not  enter  upon  at  this  time. 

Now  to  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  GJiost, 
three  Persons  and  one  God,  be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is 
most  due,  all  praise,  might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now 
and  for  evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  XVI. 


A  DISCOURSE  AGAINST  LONG  AND  EXTEMPORE  PRAYERS 

IN  BEHALF  OF  THE  LITURGY  OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND. 
UPON  THE  SAME  TEXT. 


ECCLESIASTES  v.  2.  — Be  not  rash  with  thy  mouth,  and  let  not  thine  heart  be  hasty  to 
utter  any  thing  before  God:  for  God  is  in  heaven,  and  thou  upon  earth:  therefore  let 
thy  words  be  few. 

I  FORMERLY  began  a  discourse  upon  these  words,  and 
observed  in  them  these  three  things  : 

1st,  That  whosoever  appears  in  the  house  of  God,  and  par 
ticularly  in  the  way  of  prayer,  ought  to  reckon  himself,  in  a 
more  especial  manner,  placed  in  the  sight  and  presence  of 
God ;  and, 

2dly,  That  the  vast  and  infinite  distance  between  God  and 
him  ought  to  create  in  him  all  imaginable  awe  and  reverence 
in  such  his  addresses  to  God. 

3dly  and  lastly,  That  this  reverence  required  of  him  is  to 
consist  in  a  serious  preparation  of  his  thoughts,  and  a  sober 
government  of  his  expressions :  neither  is  his  mouth  to  be 
rash,  nor  his  heart  to  be  hasty  in  uttering  any  thing  before  God. 

These  three  things  I  show,  were  evidently  contained  in 
the  words,  and  did  as  evidently  contain  the  whole  sense  of 
them.  But  I  gathered  them  all  into  this  one  proposition ; 
namely, 

That  premeditation  of  thought  and  brevity  of  expression 
are  the  great  ingredients  of  that  reverence  that  is  required 
to  a  pious,  acceptable,  and  devout  prayer. 

The  first  of  these,  which  is  premeditation  of  thought,  I 
then  fully  treated  of,  and  dispatched ;  and  shall  now  proceed 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  317 

to  the  other,  which  is  a  pertinent  brevity  of  expression ;  there 
fore  let  thy  words  be  few. 

Concerning  which  we  shall  observe,  first,  in  general,  that 
to  be  able  to  express  our  minds  briefly,  and  fully  too,  is  abso 
lutely  the  greatest  perfection  and  commendation  that  speech 
is  capable  of;  such  a  mutual  communication  of  our  thoughts 
being  (as  I  may  so  speak)  the  next  approach  to  intuition,  and 
the  nearest  imitation  of  the  converse  of  blessed  spirits  made 
perfect,  that  our  condition  in  this  world  can  possibly  raise  us 
to.  Certainly  the  greatest  and  the  wisest  conceptions  that 
ever  issued  from  the  mind  of  man,  have  been  couched  under, 
and  delivered  in,  a  few,  close,  home,  and  significant  words. 

But,  to  derive  the  credit  of  this  way  of  speaking  much 
higher,  and  from  an  example  infinitely  greater  than  the 
greatest  human  wisdom,  was  it  not  authorized  and  ennobled 
by  God  himself  in  his  making  of  the  world  ?  Was  not  the 
work  of  all  the  six  days  transacted  in  so  many  words  ?  There 
was  no  circumlocution  or  amplification  in  the  case ;  which 
makes  the  rhetorician  Longinus,  in  his  book  of  the  Loftiness 
of  Speech,  so  much  admire  the  hight  and  grandeur  of  Moses's 
style  in  his  first  chapter  of  Genesis :  *O  TW  'louSatW  $eoyx.o- 
tfenys,  ovx  6  TVXW  avrjp.  "  The  lawgiver  of  the  Jews,"  says  he, 
(meaning  Moses,)  "  was  no  ordinary  man,"  eTmSi)  rty  rov  ®eov 

BvvafAW  Kara  rrjv  a^lav  eyvwpwre  Ka.^iffr-qvf.v  (6  because,"  Says   he,  "  lie 

set  forth  the  divine  power  suitably  to  the  "  majesty  and  great 
ness  of  it."  But  how  did  he  this  ?  Why,  tvOvs  «/ 177  do-jBoXy 

ypdij/as  TWJ>  vo/xcov,  EtTrei/  6  ©eos,   <frt](rlt  TI;  TevecrOu  </><os,  KCU  eyerero  * 

yeveVtfa)  yq,  KCU  eyeWo,  &c. ;  "  for  that,"  says  he,  "  in  the  very 
entrance  of  his  laws  he  gives  us  this  short  and  pleasant 
account  of  the  whole  creation :  God  said,  Let  there  be  light, 
and  there  was  light :  Let  there  be  an  earth,  a  sea,  and  a  fir 
mament  ;  and  there  was  so."  So  that  all  this  high  elogy  and 
encomium,  given  by  this  heathen  of  Moses,  sprang  only  from 
the  majestic  brevity  of  this  one  expression;  an  expression 
so  suited  to  the  greatness  of  a  creator,  and  so  expressive 
of  his  boundless,  creative  power,  as  a  power  infinitely  above 
all  control  or  possibility  of  finding  the  least  obstacle  or  de 
lay  in  achieving  its  mightiest  and  most  stupendous  works. 
Heaven  and  earth,  and  all  the  host  of  both,  as  it  were, 
dropped  from  his  mouth,  and  nature  itself  was  but  the  product 


318  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.          [SERM.  xvi. 

of  a  word ;  a  word  not  designed  to  express,  but  to  constitute 
and  give  a  being ;  and  not  so  much  the  representation  as  the 
cause  of  what  it  signified. 

This  was  God's  way  of  speaking  in  his  first  forming  of  the 
universe  :  and  was  it  not  so  in  the  next  grand  instance  of  his 
power,  his  governing  of  it  too?  For  are  not  the  great  in 
struments  of  government,  his  laws,  drawn  up  and  digested 
into  a  few  sentences ;  the  whole  body  of  them  containing  but 
ten  commandments,  and  some  of  those  commandments  not 
so  many  words  ?  Nay,  and  have  we  not  these  also  brought 
into  yet  a  narrower  compass  by  Him  who  best  understood' 
them  ?  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart, 
and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself:  precepts 
nothing  like  the  tedious,  endless,  confused  trash  of  human 
laws ;  laws  so  numerous,  that  they  not  only  exceed  men's 
practice,  but  also  surpass  their  arithmetic ;  and  so  volumi 
nous,  that  no  mortal  head,  nor  shoulders  neither,  must  ever 
pretend  themselves  able  to  bear  them.  In  God's  laws,  the 
words  are  few,  the  sense  vast  and  infinite.  In  human  laws, 
you  shall  be  sure  to  have  words  enough ;  but,  for  the  most 
part,  to  discern  the  sense  and  reason  of  them,  you  had  need 
read  them  with  a  microscope. 

And  thus  having  shown  how  the  Almighty  utters  himself 
when  he  speaks,  and  that  upon  the  greatest  occasions,  let  us 
now  descend  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  God  to  man,  and 
show  that  it  is  no  presumption  for  us  to  conform  our  words, 
as  well  as  our  actions,  to  the  supreme  pattern,  and,  according 
to  our  poor  measures,  to  imitate  the  wisdom  that  we  adore. 
And  for  this,  has  it  not  been  noted  by  the  best  observers  and 
the  ablest  judges  both  of  things  and  persons,  that  the  wisdom 
of  any  people  or  nation  has  been  most  seen  in  the  proverbs 
and  short  sayings  commonly  received  amongst  them  ?  And 
what  is  a  proverb  but  the  experience  and  observation  of 
several  ages,  gathered  and  summed  up  into  one  expression  ? 
The  scripture  vouches  Solomon  for  the  wisest  of  men :  and 
they  are  his  Proverbs  that  prove  him  so.  The  seven  wise 
men  of  Greece,  so  famous  for  their  wisdom  all  the  world  over, 
acquired  all  that  fame  each  of  them  by  a  single  sentence, 
consisting  of  two  or  three  words  :  and  yv&Oi  o-eavrov  still  lives 
and  flourishes  in  the  mouths  of  all,  while  many  vast  volumes 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  319 

are  extinct,  and  sunk  into  dust  and  utter  oblivion.  And  then, 
for  books ;  we  shall  generally  find,  that  the  most  excellent,  in 
any  art  or  science,  have  been  still  the  smallest  and  most  com 
pendious:  and  this  not  without  ground;  for  it  is  an  argu 
ment  that  the  author  was  a  master  of  what  he  wrote,  and  had 
a  clear  notion  and  a  full  comprehension  of  the  subject  before 
him.  For  the  reason  of  things  lies  in  a  little  compass,  if 
the  mind  could  at  any  time  be  so  happy  as  to  light  upon  it. 
Most  of  the  writings  and  discourses  in  the  world  are  but 
illustration  and  rhetoric,  which  signifies  as  much  as  nothing 
to  a  mind  eager  in  pursuit  after  the  causes  and  philosophical 
truth  of  things.  It  is  the  work  of  fancy  to  enlarge,  but  of 
judgment  to  shorten  and  contract ;  and  therefore  this  must 
needs  be  as  far  above  the  other,  as  judgment  is  a  greater  and 
a  nobler  faculty  than  fancy  or  imagination.  All  philosophy 
is  reduced  to  a  few  principles,  and  those  principles  comprised 
in  a  few  propositions.  And  as  the  whole  structure  of  specu 
lation  rests  upon  three  or  four  axioms  or  maxims,  so  that  of 
practice  also  bears  upon  a  very  small  number  of  rules.  And 
surely  there  was  never  yet  any  rule  or  maxim  that  filled  a 
volume,  or  took  up  a  week's  time  to  be  got  by  heart.  No, 
these  are  the  apices  rerum,  the  tops  and  sums,  the  very  spirit 
and  life  of  things  extracted  and  abridged;  just  as  all  the 
lines  drawn  from  the  vastest  circumference  do  at  length  meet 
and  unite  in  the  smallest  of  things,  a  point :  and  it  is  but  a 
very  little  piece  of  wood  with  which  a  true  artist  will  meas 
ure  all  the  timber  in  the  world.  The  truth  is,  there  could 
be  no  such  thing  as  art  or  science,  could  not  the  mind  of  man 
gather  the  general  natures  of  things  out  of  the  numberless 
heap  of  particulars,  and  then  bind  them  up  into  such  short 
aphorisms  or  propositions ;  that  so  they  may  be  made  port 
able  to  the  memory,  and  thereby  become  ready  and  at  hand 
for  the  judgment  to  apply  and  make  use  of,  as  there  shall  be 
occasion. 

In  fine,  brevity  and  succinctness  of  speech  is  that  which 
in  philosophy  or  speculation  we  call  maxim,  and  first  principle  : 
in  the  counsels  and  resolves  of  practical  wisdom,  and  the 
deep  mysteries  of  religion,  oracle ;  and  lastly,  in  matters  of 
wit,  and  the  finenesses  of  imagination,  epigram.  All  of  them, 
severally  and  in  their  kinds,  the  greatest  and  the  noblest 


320  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.          [SERM.  xvi. 

things  that  the  mind  of  man  can  show  the  force  and  dexterity 
of  its  faculties  in. 

And  now,  if  this  be  the  highest  excellency  and  perfection 
of  speech  in  all  other  things,  can  we  assign  any  true,  solid 
reason  why  it  should  not  be  so  likewise  in  prayer  ?  Nay,  is 
there  not  rather  the  clearest  reason  imaginable  why  it  should 
be  much  more  so ;  since  most  of  the  forementioned  things 
are  but  addresses  to  an  human  understanding,  which  may 
need  as  many  words  as  may  fill  a  volume,  to  make  it  under 
stand  the  truth  of  one  line  ?  whereas  prayer  is  an  address 
to  that  eternal  mind  which,  as  we  have  shown  before,  such  as 
rationally  invocate  pretend  not  to  inform.  Nevertheless,  since 
the  nature  of  man  is  such,  that,  while  we  are  yet  in  the  body, 
our  reverence  and  worship  of  God  must  of  necessity  proceed  in 
some  analogy  to  the  reverence  that  we  show  to  the  grandees 
of  this  world,  we  will  here  see  what  the  judgment  of  all  wise 
men  is  concerning  fewness  of  words,  when  we  appear  as  sup 
pliants  before  our  earthly  superiors ;  and  we  shall  find  that 
they  generally  allow  it  to  import  these  three  things  :  1.  Mod 
esty  ;  2.  Discretion ;  and  3dly,  Hight  of  respect  to  the  per 
son  addressed  to.  And  first,  for  modesty.  Modesty  is  a  kind 
of  shame  or  bashfulness,  proceeding  from  the  sense  a  man 
has  of  his  own  defects,  compared  with  the  perfections  of  him 
whom  he  comes  before.  And  that  which  is  modesty  towards 
men,  is  worship  and  devotion  towards  God.  It  is  a  virtue 
that  makes  a  man  unwilling  to  be  seen,  and  fearful  to  be 
heard ;  and  yet,  for  that  very  cause,  never  fails  to  make  him 
both  seen  with  favor,  and  heard  with  attention.  It  loves  not 
many  words,  nor  indeed  needs  them.  For  modesty,  address 
ing  to  any  one  of  a  generous  worth  and  honor,  is  sure  to  have 
that  man^s  honor  for  its  advocate,  and  his  generosity  for  its 
intercessor.  And  how  then  is  it  possible  for  such  a  virtue  to 
run  out  into  words  ?  Loquacity  storms  the  ear,  but  modesty 
takes  the  heart ;  that  is  troublesome,  this  gentle  but  irresist 
ible.  Much  speaking  is  always  the  effect  of  confidence ;  and 
confidence  still  presupposes,  and  springs  from,  the  persuasion 
that  a  man  has  of  his  own  worth  :  both  of  them  certainly  very 
unfit  qualifications  for  a  petitioner. 

2dly,  The  second  thing  that  naturally  shows  itself  in  pau 
city  of  words  is,  discretion ;  and  particularly  that  prime  and 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  321 

eminent  part  of  it,  that  consists  in  a  care  of  offending :  which 
Solomon  assures  us,  that  in  much  speaking  it  is  hardly  possi 
ble  for  us  to  avoid ;  in  Prov.  x.  19,  In  the  multitude  of  words, 
says  he,  there  wanteth  not  sin.  It  requiring  no  ordinary  skill 
for  a  man  to  make  his  tongue  run  by  rule,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  to  give  it  both  its  lesson  and  its  liberty  too.  For  seldom 
or  never  is  there  much  spoke,  but  something  or  other  had 
better  been  not  spoke;  there  being  nothing  that  the  mind 
of  man  is  so  apt  to  kindle  and  take  distaste  at  as  at  words : 
and  therefore,  whensoever  any  one  comes  to  prefer  a  suit  to 
another,  no  doubt  the  fewer  of  them  the  better ;  since,  where 
so  very  little  is  said,  it  is  sure  to  be  either  candidly  accepted, 
or,  which  is  next,  easily  excused :  but  at  the  same  time  to 
petition  and  to  provoke  too,  is  certainly  very  preposterous. 

3dly,  The  third  thing  that  brevity  of  speech  commends 
itself  by  in  all  petitionary  addresses  is,  a  peculiar  respect  to 
the  person  addressed  to  :  for  whosoever  petitions  his  superior 
in  such  a  manner,  does,  by  his  very  so  doing,  confess  him 
better  able  to  understand  than  he  himself  can  be  to  express 
his  own  case.  He  owns  him  as  a  patron  of  a  preventing 
judgment  and  goodness,  and,  upon  that  account,  able,  not 
only  to  answer,  but  also  to  anticipate  his  requests.  For,  ac 
cording  to  the  most  natural  interpretation  of  things,  this  is  to 
ascribe  to  him  a  sagacity  so  quick  and  piercing,  that  it  were 
presumption  to  inform  ;  and  a  benignity  so  great,  that  it  were 
needless  to  importune  him.  And  can  there  be  a  greater  and 
more  winning  deference  to  a  superior  than  to  treat  him 
under  such  a  character  ?  Or  can  any  thing  be  imagined  so 
naturally  fit  and  efficacious,  both  to  enforce  the  petition  and 
to  endear  the  petitioner?  A  short  petition  to  a  great  man 
is  not  only  a  suit  to  him  for  his  favor,  but  also  a  panegyric 
upon  his  parts. 

And  thus  I  have  given  you  the  three  commendatory  qualifi 
cations  of  brevity  of  speech  in  our  applications  to  the  great 
ones  of  the  world.  Concerning  which,  as  I  showed  before 
that  it  was  impossible  for  us  to  form  our  addresses,  even  to 
God  himself,  but  with  some  proportion  and  resemblance  to 
those  that  we  make  to  our  fellow-mortals  in  a  condition  much 
above  us,  so  it  is  certain,  that  whatsoever  the  general  judg 
ment  and  consent  of  mankind  allows  to  be  expressive  and 

VOL.  i.  21 


322  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.          [SERM.  xvi. 

declarative  of  our  honor  to  those,  must  (only  with  due  allow 
ance  of  the  difference  of  the  ohject)  as  really  and  properly 
declare  and  signify  that  honor  and  adoration  that  is  due  from 
us  to  the  great  God.  And,  consequently,  what  we  have  said 
for  brevity  of  speech  with  respect  to  the  former,  ought  equally 
to  conclude  for  it  with  relation  to  him  too. 

But  to  argue  more  immediately  and  directly  to  the  point 
before  us,  I  shall  now  produce  five  arguments,  enforcing  brev 
ity,  and  cashiering  all  prolixity  of  speech,  with  peculiar  refer 
ence  to  our  addresses  to  God. 

1.  And  the  first  argument  shall  be  taken  from  this  consid 
eration,  That  there  is  no  reason  allegeable  for  the  use  of 
length  or  prolixity  of  speech,  that  is  at  all  applicable  to  prayer. 
For  whosoever  uses  multiplicity  of  words,  or  length  of  dis 
course,  must  of  necessity  do  it  for  one  of  three  purposes : 
either  to  inform,  or  persuade ;  or,  lastly,  to  weary  and  over 
come  the  person  whom  he  directs  his  discourse  to.  But  the 
very  first  foundation  of  what  I  had  to  say  upon  this  subject 
was  laid  by  me  in  demonstrating  that  prayer  could  not  pos 
sibly  prevail  with  God  any  of  these  three  ways.  Forasmuch 
as,  being  omniscient,  he  could  not  be  informed ;  and,  being 
void  of  passion  or  affections,  he  could  not  be  persuaded  ;  and, 
lastly,  being  omnipotent  and  infinitely  great,  he  could  not, 
by  any  importunity,  be  wearied  or  overcome.  And  if  so,  what 
use  then  can  there  be  of  rhetoric,  harangue,  or  multitude  of 
words  in  prayer  ?  For,  if  they  should  be  designed  for  infor 
mation,  must  it  not  be  infinitely  sottish  and  unreasonable  to 
go  about  to  inform  him,  who  can  be  ignorant  of  nothing  ? 
Or  to  persuade  him,  whose  unchangeable  nature  makes  it 
impossible  for  him  to  be  moved  or  wrought  upon  ?  Or,  lastly, 
by  long  and  much  speaking,  to  think  to  weary  him  out,  whose 
infinite  power  all  the  strength  of  men  and  angels,  and  the 
whole  world  put  together,  is  not  able  to  encounter  or  stand 
before  ?  So  that  the  truth  is,  by  loquacity  and  prolixity  of 
prayer,  a  man  does  really  and  indeed  (whether  he  thinks  so 
or  no)  rob  God  of  the  honor  of  those  three  great  attributes, 
and  neither  treats  him  as  a  person  omniscient,  or  unchange 
able,  or  omnipotent :  for,  on  the  other  side,  all  the  usefulness 
of  long  speech,  in  human  converse,  is  founded  only  upon  the 
defects  and  imperfections  of  human  nature.  For  he,  whose 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  323 

knowledge  is  at  best  but  limited,  and  whose  intellect,  both  in 
apprehending  and  judging,  proceeds  by  a  small  diminutive 
light,  can  not  but  receive  an  additional  light  by  the  concep 
tions  of  another  man,  clearly  and  plainly  expressed,  and  by 
such  expression  conveyed  to  his  apprehension.  And  he  again, 
whose  nature  subjects  him  to  want  and  weakness,  and  con 
sequently  to  hopes  and  fears,  can  not  but  be  moved  this  way 
or  that  way,  according  as  objects  suitable  to  those  passions 
shall  be  dexterously  represented  and  set  before  his  imagina 
tion,  by  the  arts  of  speaking;  which  is  that  that  we  call 
persuasion.  And  lastly,  he  whose  soul  and  body  receive  their 
activity  from,  and  perform  all  their  functions  by,  the  media 
tion  of  the  spirits,  which  ebb  and  flow,  consume,  and  are 
renewed  again,  can  not  but  find  himself  very  uneasy  upon 
any  tedious,  verbose  application  made  to  him ;  and  that  some 
times  to  such  a  degree,  that,  through  mere  fatigue,  and  even 
against  judgment  and  interest  both,  a  man  shall  surrender 
himself,  as  a  conquered  person,  to  the  overbearing  vehemence 
of  such  solicitations  :  for  when  they  ply  him  so  fast,  and  pour 
in  upon  him  so  thick,  they  can  not  but  wear  and  waste  the 
spirits,  as  unequal  to  so  pertinacious  a  charge ;  and  this  is 
properly  to  weary  a  man.  But  now  all  weariness,  we  know, 
presupposes  weakness ;  and  consequently,  every  long,  impor 
tune,  wearisome  petition  is  truly  and  properly  a  force  upon 
him  that  is  pursued  with  it ;  it  is  a  following  blow  after  blow 
upon  the  mind  and  affections,  and  may,  for  the  time,  pass  for 
a  real,  though  short  persecution. 

This  is  the  state  and  condition  of  hranan  nature  ;  and  pro 
lixity  or  importunity  of  speech  is  still  the  great  engine  to 
attack  it  by,  either  in  its  blind  or  weak  side :  and  I  think  I 
may  venture  to  affirm,  that  it  is  seldom  that  any  man  is  pre 
vailed  upon  by  words;  but,  upon  a  true  and  philosophical 
estimate  of  the  whole  matter,  he  is  either  deceived  or  wearied 
before  he  is  so,  and  parts  with  the  thing  desired  of  him  upon 
the  very  same  terms  that  either  a  child  parts  with  a  jewel  for 
an  apple,  or  a  man  parts  with  his  sword,  when  it  is  forcibly 
wrested  or  took  from  him.  And  that  he  who  obtains  what 
he  has  been  rhetorically  or  importunately  begging  for,  goes 
away  really  a  conqueror,  and  triumphantly  carrying  off  the 
spoils  of  his  neighbor's  understanding,  or  his  will ;  baffling 


324  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.          [SERM.  XVI. 

the  former,  or  wearying  the  latter,  into  a  grant  of  his  restless 
petitions. 

And  now,  if  this  be  the  case,  when  any  one  comes  with  a 
tedious,  long-winded  harangue  to  God,  may  not  God  prop 
erly  answer  him  with  those  words  in  Psalm  1.  21,  Surely 
thou  ihinkest  I  am  altogether  such  an  one  as  thyself?  And  per 
haps,  upon  a  due  and  rational  examination  of  all  the  follies 
and  indecencies  that  men  are  apt  to  he  guilty  of  in  prayer, 
they  will  he  all  found  resolvable  into  this  one  thing,  as  the 
true  and  sole  cause  of  them  ;  namely,  That  men,  when  they 
pray,  take  God  to  be  such  an  one  as  themselves ;  and  so  treat 
him  accordingly.  The  malignity  and  mischief  of  which  gross 
mistake  may  reach  further  than  possibly  at  first  they  can 
well  be  aware  of.  For  if  it  be  idolatry  to  pray  to  God  the 
Father,  represented  under  the  shape  of  a  man,  can  it  be  at 
all  better  to  pray  to  him  as  represented  under  the  weakness 
of  a  man  P  Nay,  if  the  misrepresentation  of  the  object  makes 
the  idolatry;  certainly,  by  how  much  the  worse  and  more 
scandalous  the  misrepresentation  is,  by  so  much  the  grosser 
and  more  intolerable  must  be  the  idolatry.  To  confirm 
which,  we  may  add  this  consideration,  that  Christ  himself, 
even  now  in  his  glorified  estate  in  heaven,  wears  the  body, 
and  consequently  the  shape,  of  a  man,  though  he  is  far  from 
any  of  his  infirmities  or  imperfections :  and  therefore,  no 
doubt,  to  represent  God  to  ourselves  under  these  latter  must 
needs  be  more  absurd  and  irreligious  than  to  represent  him 
under  the  former.  But  to  one  particular  of  the  preceding 
discourse  some  may  reply  and  object,  that,  if  God's  omnis 
cience,  by  rendering  it  impossible  for  him  to  be  informed, 
be  a  sufficient  reason  against  prolixity,  or  length  of  prayer, 
it  will  follow,  that  it  is  equally  a  reason  against  the  using  any 
words  at  all  in  prayer,  since  the  proper  use  of  words  is  to  in 
form  the  person  whom  we  speak  to ;  and  consequently,  where 
information  is  impossible,  words  must  needs  be  useless  and 
superfluous. 

To  which  I  answer,  first  by  concession,  That,  if  the  sole 
use  of  words  or  speech  were  to  inform  the  person  whom  we 
speak  to,  the  consequence  would  be  firm  and  good,  and 
equally  conclude  against  the  use  of  any  words  at  all  in 
prayer.  But  therefore,  in  the  second  place,  I  deny  infor- 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]        Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  325 

mation  to  be  the  sole  and  adequate  use  of  words  or  speech,  or 
indeed  any  use  of  them  at  all,  when  either  the  person  spoken 
to  needs  not  to  be  informed,  and  withal  is  known  not  to  need 
it,  as  sometimes  it  falls  out  with  men  :  or,  when  he  is  in 
capable  of  being  informed,  as  it  is  always  with  God.  But 
the  proper  use  of  words,  whensoever  we  speak  to  God  in 
prayer,  is  thereby  to  pay  him  honor  and  obedience.  God 
having',  by  an  express  precept,  enjoined  us  the  use  of  words 
in  prayer,  commanding  us  in  Psalm  1.  15,  and  many  other 
scriptures,  to  call  upon  him :  and  in  Luke  xi.  21,  When  we 
pray,  to  say,  Our  Father,  &c.  But  nowhere  has  he  com 
manded  us  to  do  this  with  prolixity,  or  multiplicity  of  words. 
And  though  it  must  be  confessed,  that  we  may  sometimes 
answer  this  command  of  calling*  upon  God,  and  saying,  Our 
Father,  &c.,  by  mental  or  inward  prayer,  yet,  since  these 
words,  in  their  first  and  most  proper  signification,  import  a 
vocal  address,  there  is  no  doubt  but  the  direct  design  of  the 
command  is  to  enjoin  this  also,  wheresoever  there  is  ability 
and  power  to  perform  it.  So  that  we  see  here  the  necessity 
of  vocal  prayer,  founded  upon  the  authority  of  a  divine  pre 
cept  ;  whereas,  for  long  prolix  prayer,  no  such  precept  can 
be  produced ;  and  consequently,  the  divine  omniscience  may 
be  a  sufficient  reason  against  multiplicity  of  words  in  prayer, 
and  yet  conclude  nothing  simply  or  absolutely  against  the 
bare  use  of  them.  Nevertheless,  that  we  may  not  seem  to 
allege  bare  command,  unseconded  by  reason,  (which  yet,  in 
the  divine  commands,  it  is  impossible  to  do,)  there  is  this 
great  reason  for,  and  use  of,  words  in  prayer,  without  the 
least  pretense  of  informing  the  person  whom  we  pray  to ;  and 
that  is,  to  acknowledge  and  own  those  wants  before  God  that 
we  supplicate  for  a  relief  of.  It  being  very  proper  and  ra 
tional  to  own  and  acknowledge  a  thing,  even  to  him  who 
knew  it  before ;  forasmuch  as  this  is  so  far  from  offering  to 
communicate  or  make  known  to  him  the  thing  so  acknowl 
edged,  that  it  rather  presupposes  in  him  an  antecedent 
knowledge  of  it,  and  comes  in  only  as  a  subsequent  assent 
and  subscription  to  the  reality  and  truth  of  such  a  knowl 
edge.  For  to  acknowledge  a  thing,  in  the  first  sense  of  the 
word,  does  by  no  means  signify  a  design  of  notifying  that 
thing  to  another,  but  is  truly  and  properly  a  man's  passing 


326  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.         [SEEM.  xvi. 

sentence  upon  himself  and  his  own  condition  :  there  being  no 
reason  in  the  world  for  a  man  to  expect  that  God  should  re 
lieve  and  supply  those  wants  that  he  himself  will  not  own  nor 
take  notice  of;  any  more  than  for  a  man  to  hope  for  a  pardon 
of  those  sins  that  he  can  not  find  in  his  heart  to  confess. 
And  yet,  I  suppose,  no  man  in  his  right  senses  does  or  can 
imagine,  that  God  is  informed  or  brought  to  the  knowledge 
of  those  sins  by  any  such  confession. 

And  so  much  for  the  clearing  of  this  objection  ;  and,  in  the 
whole,  for  the  first  argument  produced  by  us  for  brevity,  and 
against  prolixity  of  prayer ;  namely,  That  all  the  reasons  that 
can  be  assigned  for  prolixity  of  speech  in  our  converse  with 
men  cease,  and  become  no  reasons  for  it  at  all,  when  we  are 
to  speak  or  pray  to  God. 

2dly,  The  second  argument  for  paucity  of  words  in  prayer 
shall  be  taken  from  the  paucity  of  those  things  that  are  ne 
cessary  to  be  prayed  for.  And  surely,  where  few  things  are 
necessary,  few  words  should  be  sufficient.  For  where  the 
matter  is  not  commensurate  to  the  words,  all  speaking  is  but 
tautology ;  that  being  truly  and  really  tautology  where  the 
same  thing  is  repeated,  though  under  never  so  much  variety 
of  expression  ;  as  it  is  but  the  same  man  still,  though  he  ap 
pears  every  day  or  every  hour  in  a  new  and  different  suit  of 
clothes. 

The  adequate  subject  of  our  prayers  (I  showed  at  first) 
comprehended  in  it  things  of  necessity  and  things  of  charity. 
As  to  the  first  of  which,  I  know  nothing  absolutely  necessary 
but  grace  here  and  glory  hereafter.  And  for  the  other,  we 
know  what  the  Apostle  says,  1  Tim.  vi.  8 ;  Having  food  and 
raiment,  let  us  be  therewith  content.  Nature  is  satisfied  with 
a  little,  and  grace  with  less.  And  now,  if  the  matter  of  our 
prayers  lies  within  so  narrow  a  compass,  why  should  the  dress 
and  outside  of  them  spread  and  diffuse  itself  into  so  wide 
and  disproportioned  a  largeness?  by  reason  of  which  our 
words  will  be  forced  to  hang  loose  and  light,  without  any 
matter  to  support  them ;  much  after  the  same  rate  that  it  is 
said  to  be  in  transubstantiation,  where  accidents  are  left  in 
the  lurch  by  their  proper  subject,  that  gives  them  the  slip, 
and  so  leaves  those  poor  slender  beings  to  uphold  and  shift  for 
themselves. 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  327 

In  brevity  of  speech,  a  man  does  not  so  much  speak  words 
as  things;  things  in  their  precise  and  naked  truth,  and 
stripped  of  their  rhetorical  mask  and  their  fallacious  gloss ; 
and  therefore  in  Athens  they  circumscribed  the  pleadings  of 
their  orators  by  a  strict  law,  cutting  off  prologues  and  epi 
logues,  and  commanding  them  to  an  immediate  representa 
tion  of  the  case,  by  an  impartial  and  succinct  declaration  of 
mere  matter  of  fact.  And  this  was,  indeed,  to  speak  things 
fit  for  a  judge  to  hear,  because  it  argued  the  pleader  also  a 
judge  of  what  was  fit  for  him  to  speak. 

And  now,  why  should  not  this  be  both  decency  and  devo 
tion  too,  when  we  come  to  plead  for  our  poor  souls  before 
the  great  tribunal  of  heaven  ?  It  was  the  saying  of  Solomon, 
A  word  to  the  wise  ;  and  if  so,  certainly  there  can  be  no  ne 
cessity  of  many  words  to  Him  who  is  wisdom  itself.  For  can 
any  man  think  that  God  delights  to  hear  him  make  speeches, 
and  to  show  his  parts,  (as  the  word  is,)  or  to  jumble  a  multi 
tude  of  misapplied  scripture-sentences  together,  interlarded 
with  a  frequent,  nauseous  repetition  of  "  Ah  Lord !  "  which 
some  call  exercising  tlieir  gifts,  but  with  a  greater  exercise  of 
their  hearers'  patience  ?  Nay,  does  not  he  present  his  Maker, 
not  only  with  a  more  decent,  but  also  a  more  free  and  liberal 
oblation,  who  tenders  him  much  in  a  little,  and  brings  him 
his  whole  heart  and  soul  wrapt  up  in  three  or  four  words, 
than  he  who,  with  full  mouth  and  loud  lungs,  sends  up  whole 
volleys  of  articulate  breath  to  the  throne  of  grace  ?  For 
neither  in  the  esteem  of  God  or  man  ought  multitude  of  words 
to  pass  for  any  more.  In  the  present  case,  no  doubt,  God  ac 
counts  and  accepts  of  the  former,  as  infinitely  a  more  valuable 
offering  than  the  latter.  As  that  subject  pays  a  prince  a 
much  nobler  and  more  acceptable  tribute,  who  tenders  him  a 
purse  of  gold,  than  he  who  brings  him  a  whole  cart-load  of 
farthings,  in  which  there  is  weight  without  worth,  and  num 
ber  without  account. 

3dly,  The  third  argument  for  brevity,  or  contractedness  of 
speech  in  prayer,  shall  be  taken  from  the  very  nature  and 
condition  of  the  person  who  prays ;  which  makes  it  impossi 
ble  for  him  to  keep  up  the  same  fervor  and  attention  in  a 
long  prayer,  that  he  may  in  a  short.  For  as  I  first  observed, 
that  the  mind  of  man  can  not  with  the  same  force  and  vigor 


328  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.          [SERM.  xvi. 

attend  to  several  objects  at  the  same  time,  so  neither  can  it 
with  the  same  force  and  earnestness  exert  itself  upon  one  and 
the  same  object  for  any  long  time :  great  intention  of  mind 
spending  the  spirits  too  fast  to  continue  its  first  freshness 
and  agility  long.  For  while  the  soul  is  a  retainer  to  the 
elements,  and  a  sojourner  in  the  body,  it  must  be  content  to 
submit  its  own  quickness  and  spirituality  to  the  dullness  of  its 
vehicle,  and  to  comply  with  the  pace  of  its  inferior  companion. 
Just  like  a  man  shut  up  in  a  coach,  who,  while  he  is  so,  must 
be  willing  to  go  no  faster  than  the  motion  of  the  coach  will 
carry  him.  He  who  does  all  by  the  help  of  those  subtile,  re 
fined  parts  of  matter,  called  spirits,  must  not  think  to  perse 
vere  at  the  same  pitch  of  acting  while  those  principles  of 
activity  flag.  No  man  begins  and  ends  a  long  journey  with 
the  same  pace. 

But  now,  when  prayer  has  lost  its  due  fervor  and  attention, 
(which  indeed  are  the  very  vitals  of  it,)  it  is  but  the  carcass 
of  a  prayer,  and  consequently  must  needs  be  loathsome  and 
offensive  to  God  :  nay,  though  the  greatest  part  of  it  should 
be  enlivened  and  carried  on  with  an  actual  attention,  yet,  if 
that  attention  fails  to  enliven  any  one  part  of  it,  the  whole  is 
but  a  joining  of  the  living  and  the  dead  together ;  for  which 
conjunction  the  dead  is  not  at  all  the  better,  but  the  living 
very  much  the  worse.  It  is  not  length,  nor  copiousness  of 
language,  that  is  devotion,  any  more  than  bulk  and  bigness  is 
valor,  or  flesh  the  measure  of  the  spirit.  A  short  sentence 
may  be  oftentimes  a  large  and  a  mighty  prayer.  Devotion  so 
managed  being  like  water  in  a  well,  where  you  have  fullness 
in  a  little  compass ;  which  surely  is  much  nobler  than  the 
same  carried  out  into  many  petit,  creeping  rivulets,  with 
length  and  shallowness  together.  Let  him  who  prays  bestow 
all  that  strength,  fervor,  and  attention  upon  shortness  and 
significance,  that  would  otherwise  run  out  and  lose  itself  in 
length  and  luxuriancy  of  speech  to  no  purpose.  Let  not  his 
tongue  outstrip  his  heart,  nor  presume  to  carry  a  message  to 
the  throne  of  grace,  while  that  stays  behind.  Let  him  not 
think  to  support  so  hard  and  weighty  a  duty  with  a  tired, 
languishing,  and  bejaded  devotion :  to  avoid  which,  let  a  man 
contract  his  expression,  where  he  can  not  enlarge  his  affec 
tion  ;  still  remembering  that  nothing  can  be  more  absurd  in 


E  COLES,  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  329 

itself,  nor  more  unacceptable  to  God,  than  for  one  engaged 
in  the  great  work  of  prayer  to  hold  on  speaking,  after  he  has 
left  off  praying,  and  to  keep  the  lips  at  work  when  the  spirit 
can  do  no  more. 

4thly,  The  fourth  argument  for  shortness  or  conciseness  of 
speech  in  prayer  shall  be  drawn  from  this,  That  it  is  the 
most  natural  and  lively  way  of  expressing  the  utmost  agonies 
and  outcries  of  the  soul  to  God  upon  a  quick,  pungent  sense, 
either  of  a  pressing  necessity,  or  an  approaching  calamity ; 
which,  we  know,  are  generally  the  chief  occasions  of  prayer, 
and  the  most  effectual  motives  to  bring  men  upon  their  knees 
in  a  vigorous  application  of  themselves  to  this  great  duty.  A 
person  ready  to  sink  under  his  wants  has  neither  time  nor 
heart  to  rhetoricate  or  make  flourishes.  No  man  begins  a 
long  grace  when  he  is  ready  to  starve  :  such  an  one's  prayers 
are  like  the  relief  he  needs,  quick  and  sudden,  short  and  im 
mediate  :  he  is  like  a  man  in  torture  upon  the  rack ;  whose 
pains  are  too  acute  to  let  his  words  be  many,  and  whose  de 
sires  of  deliverance  too  impatient  to  delay  the  things  he  begs 
for  by  the  manner  of  his  begging  it. 

It  is  a  common  saying,  "  If  a  man  does  not  know  how  to 
pray,  let  him  go  to  sea,  and  that  will  teach  him."  And  we 
have  a  notable  instance  of  what  kind  of  prayers  men  are 
taught  in  that  school,  even  in  the  disciples  themselves,  when 
a  storm  arose,  and  the  sea  raged,  and  the  ship  was  ready  to 
be  cast  away,  in  the  eighth  of  Matthew.  In  which  case  we 
do  not  find  that  they  fell  presently  to  harangue  it  about  seas 
and  winds,  and  that  dismal  face  of  things  that  must  needs 
appear  all  over  the  devouring  element  at  such  a  time  :  all 
which,  and  the  like,  might  no  doubt  have  been  very  plentiful 
topics  of  eloquence  to  a  man  who  should  have  looked  upon 
these  things  from  the  shore,  or  discoursed  of  wrecks  and 
tempests  safe  and  warm  in  his  parlor.  But  these  poor 
wretches,  who  were  now  entering,  as  they  thought,  into  the 
very  jaws  of  death,  struggling  with  the  last  efforts  of  nature 
upon  the  sense  of  a  departing  life,  and  consequently  could 
neither  speak  nor  think  any  thing  low  or  ordinary  in  such  a 
condition,  presently  rallied  up,  and  discharged  the  whole  con 
cern  of  their  desponding  souls  in  that  short  prayer  of  but 
three  words,  though  much  fuller  and  more  forcible  than  one 


330  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.          [SERM.  xvi. 

of  three  thousand,  in  the  25th  verse  of  the  forementioned 
chapter ;  Save  us,  Lord,  or  we  perish.  Death  makes  short 
work  when  it  comes,  and  will  teach  him  who  would  prevent 
it  to  make  shorter.  For  surely  no  man  who  thinks  himself 
a-perishing  can  be  at  leisure  to  be  eloquent,  or  judge  it  either 
sense  or  devotion  to  begin  a  long  prayer,  when,  in  all  likeli 
hood,  he  shall  conclude  his  life  before  it. 

5thly,  The  fifth  and  last  argument  that  I  shall  produce  for 
brevity  of  speech,  or  fewness  of  words  in  prayer,  shall  be 
taken  from  the  examples  which  we  find  in  scripture,  of  such 
as  have  been  remarkable  for  brevity,  and  of  such  as  have  been 
noted  for  prolixity  of  speech,  in  the  discharge  of  this  duty. 

1.  And  first  for  brevity.  To  omit  all  those  notable  exam 
ples  which  the  Old  Testament  affords  us  of  it,  and  to  confine 
ourselves  only  to  the  New,  in  which  we  are  undoubtedly  most 
concerned ;  was  not  this  way  of  praying  not  only  warranted 
but  sanctified,  and  set  above  all  that  the  wit  of  man  could 
possibly  except  against  it,  by  that  infinitely  exact  form  of 
prayer  prescribed  by  the  greatest,  the  holiest,  and  the  wisest 
man  that  ever  lived,  even  Christ  himself,  the  Son  of  God  and 
Saviour  of  the  world  ?  Was  it  not  an  instance  both  of  the 
truest  devotion  and  the  fullest  and  most  comprehensive  reason 
that  ever  proceeded  from  the  mouth  of  man  ?  and  yet,  withal, 
the  shortest  and  most  succinct  model  that  ever  grasped  all  the 
needs  and  occasions  of  mankind,  both  spiritual  and  temporal, 
into  so  small  a  compass  ?  Doubtless,  had  our  Saviour  thought 
fit  to  amplify  or  be  prolix,  He,  in  whom  were  hid  all  the  treas 
ures  of  wisdom,  could  not  want  matter ;  nor  he  who  was  him 
self  the  Word,  want  variety  of  the  fittest  to  have  expressed 
his  mind  by.  But  he  chose  rather  to  contract  the  whole  con 
cern  of  both  worlds  into  a  few  lines,  and  to  unite  both  heaven 
and  earth  in  his  prayer,  as  he  had  done  before  in  his  person. 
And  indeed  one  was  a  kind  of  copy  or  representation  of  the 
other. 

So  then  we  see  here  brevity  in  the  rule  or  pattern  ;  let  us 
see  it  next  in  the  practice ;  and,  after  that,  in  the  success  of 
prayer.  And  first,  we  have  the  practice,  as  well  as  the  pat 
tern  of  it,  in  our  Saviour  himself;  and  that  in  the  most  sig 
nal  passage  of  his  whole  life,  even  his  preparation  for  his  ap 
proaching  death.  In  which  dolorous  scene,  when  his  whole 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  331 

soul  was  nothing  but  sorrow,  (that  great  moving  spring  of 
invention  and  elocution,)  and  when  nature  was  put  to  its  last 
and  utmost  stretch,  and  so  had  no  refuge  or  relief  but  in 
prayer,  yet  even  then  all  this  horror,  agony,  and  distress  of 
spirit  delivers  itself  but  in  two  very  short  sentences,  in  Matt, 
xxvi.  39 ;  0  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from 
me  ;  nevertheless,  not  as  I  will,  but  as  tliou  wilt.  And  again, 
the  second  time,  with  the  like  brevity  and  the  like  words : 
0  my  Father,  if  this  cup  may  not  pass  from  me,  except  I  drink 
it,  thy  will  be  done.  And  lastly,  the  third  time  also,  he  used 
the  same  short  form  again  ;  and  yet  in  all  this  he  was  (as  we 
may  say  without  a  metaphor)  even  praying  for  life,  so  far  as 
the  great  business  he  was  then  about,  to  wit,  the  redemption 
of  the  world,  would  suffer  him  to  pray  for  it.  All  which 
prayers  of  our  Saviour,  and  others  of  like  brevity,  are  properly 
such  as  we  call  ejaculations ;  an  elegant  similitude  from  a 
dart  or  arrow,  shot  or  thrown  out ;  and  such  an  one  (we 
know)  of  a  yard  long,  will  fly  further,  and  strike  deeper,  than 
one  of  twenty. 

And  then,  in  the  last  place,  for  the  success  of  such  brief 
prayers,  I  shall  give  you  but  three  instances  of  this ;  but  they 
shall  be  of  persons  praying  under  the  pressure  of  as  great 
miseries  as  human  nature  could  well  be  afflicted  with.  And 
the  first  shall  be  of  the  leper,  Matt.  viii.  2,  or,  as  St.  Luke 
describes  him,  a  man  full  of  leprosy,  who  came  to  our  Saviour, 
and  worshipped  him ;  and,  as  St.  Luke  again  has  it  more  par 
ticularly,  fell  on  his  face  before  him,  (which  is  the  lowest  and 
most  devout  of  all  postures  of  worship,)  saying,  Lord,  if  thou 
wilt,  thou  canst  make  me  clean.  This  was  all  his  prayer  :  and 
the  answer  to  it  was,  that  he  was  immediately  cleansed.  The 
next  instance  shall  be  of  the  poor  blind  man,  in  Luke  xviii. 
38,  following  our  Saviour  with  this  earnest  prayer  :  Jesus, 
thou  son  of  David,  have  mercy  upon  me.  His  whole  prayer  was 
no  more  :  for  it  is  said  in  the  next  verse,  that  he  went  on 
repeating  it  again  and  again :  Jesus,  thou  son  of  David,  have 
mercy  upon  me.  And  the  answer  he  received  was,  that  his 
eyes  were  opened  and  his  sight  restored. 

The  third  and  last  instance  shall  be  of  the  publican,  in  the 
same  chapter  of  St.  Luke,  praying  under  a  lively  sense  of  as 
great  a  leprosy  and  blindness  of  soul  as  the  other  two  could 


332  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.          \ SERM.  xvi. 

have  of  body :  in  the  13th  verse,  he  smote  upon  his  breast, 
saying,  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner.  He  spoke  no  more ; 
though  it  is  said  in  the  10th  verse,  that  he  went  solemnly 
and  purposely  up  to  the  temple  to  pray :  the  issue  and  suc 
cess  of  which  prayer  was,  that  he  went  home  justified,  before 
one  of  those  whom  all  the  Jewish  church  revered  as  abso 
lutely  the  highest  and  most  heroic  examples  of  piety,  and 
most  beloved  fovorites  of  Heaven,  in  the  whole  world.  And 
now,  if  the  force  and  virtue  of  these  short  prayers  could  rise 
so  high  as  to  cleanse  a  leper,  to  give  sight  to  the  blind,  and 
to  justify  a  publican ;  and  if  the  worth  of  a  prayer  may  at  all 
be  measured  by  the  success  of  it,  I  suppose  no  prayers  what 
soever  can  do  more ;  and  I  never  yet  heard  or  read  of  any 
long  prayer  that  did  so  much.-  Which  brings  on  the  other 
part  of  this  our  fifth  and  last  argument,  which  was  to  be 
drawn  from  the  examples  of  such  as  have  been  noted  in  scrip 
ture  for  prolixity  or  length  of  prayer.  And  of  this  there  are 
only  two  mentioned,  the  heathens  and  the  Pharisees.  The 
first,  the  grand  instance  of  idolatry ;  the  other,  of  hypocrisy  : 
but  Christ  forbids  us  the  imitation  of  both ;  When  ye  pray, 
says  our  Saviour  in  the  6th  of  Matthew,  be  ye  not  like  the 
heathens  :  but  in  what  ?  Why  in  this,  That  they  think  tJiey  shall 
be  heard  for  their  much  speaking  ;  in  the  7th  verse.  It  is  not 
the  multitude  that  prevails  in  armies,  and  much  less  in  words. 
And  then  for  the  Pharisees,  whom  our  Saviour  represents  as 
the  very  vilest  of  men,  and  the  greatest  of  cheats.  We  have 
them  amusing  the  world  with  pretenses  of  a  more  refined 
devotion,  while  their  heart  was  all  that  time  in  their  neigh 
bor's  coffers.  For  does  not  our  Saviour  expressly  tell  us  in 
Luke  xx.  and  the  two  last  verses,  that  the  great  tools,  the 
hooks  or  engines,  by  which  they  compassed  their  worst,  their 
wickedest,  and  most  rapacious  designs,  were  long  prayers  ? 
prayers  made  only  for  a  show  or  color ;  and  that  to  the  basest 
and  most  degenerous  sort  of  villainy,  even  the  robbing  the 
spittal,  and  devouring  the  houses  of  poor,  helpless,  forlorn 
widows.  Their  devotion  served  all  along  but  as  an  instru 
ment  to  their  avarice,  as  a  factor  or  under-agent  to  their  ex 
tortion.  A  practice  which,  duly  seen  into,  and  stripped  of 
its  hypocritical  blinds,  could  not  but  look  very  odiously  and 
ill-favoredly ;  and  therefore  in  come  their  long  robes,  and 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempwe  Prayers.  333 

their  long  prayers  together,  and  cover  all.  And  the  truth  is, 
neither  the  length  of  one  nor  of  the  other  is  ever  found  so 
useful  as  when  there  is  something  more  than  ordinary  that 
would  not  he  seen.  This  was  the  gainful  godliness  of  the 
Pharisees ;  and,  I  believe,  upon  good  observation,  you  will 
hardly  find  any  like  the  Pharisees  for  their  long  prayers,  who 
are  not  also  extremely  like  them  for  something  else.  And 
thus  having  given  you  five  arguments  for  brevity,  and  against 
prolixity  of  prayer,  let  us  now  make  this  our  other  great  rule 
whereby  to  judge  of  the  prayers  of  our  church,  and  the 
prayers  of  those  who  dissent  and  divide  from  it.  And, 

First,  for  that  excellent  body  of  prayers  contained  in  our 
liturgy,  and  both  compiled  and  enjoined  by  public  authority. 
Have  we  not  here  a  great  instance  of  brevity  and  fullness 
together,  cast  into  several  short  significant  collects,  each  con 
taining  a  distinct,  entire,  and  well-managed  petition?  the 
whole  set  of  them  being  like  a  string  of  pearls,  exceeding 
rich  in  conjunction  ;  and  therefore  of  no  small  price  or  value, 
even  single  and  by  themselves.  Nothing  could  have  been 
composed  with  greater  judgment ;  every  prayer  being  so 
short,  that  it  is  impossible  it  should  weary ;  and  withal  so 
pertinent,  that  it  is  impossible  it  should  cloy  the  devotion. 
And  indeed  so  admirably  fitted  are  they  all  to  the  common 
concerns  of  a  Christian  society,  that  when  the  rubric  enjoins 
but  the  use  of  some  of  them,  our  worship  is  not  imperfect ; 
and  when  we  use  them  all,  there  is  none  of  them  superfluous. 

And  the  reason  assigned  by  some  learned  men  for  the  pref 
erence  of  many  short  prayers  before  a  continued  long  one 
is  unanswerable  ;  namely,  that  by  the  former  there  is  a  more 
frequently  repeated  mention  made  of  the  name,  and  some 
great  attribute  of  God,  as  the  encouraging  ground  of  our 
praying  to  him ;  and  withal,  of  the  merits  and  mediation  of 
Christ,  as  the  only  thing  that  can  promise  us  success  in 
what  we  pray  for :  every  distinct  petition  beginning  with  the 
former  and  ending  with  the  latter:  by  thus  annexing  of 
which  to  each  particular  thing  that  we  ask  for,  we  do  mani 
festly  confess  and  declare  that  we  can  not  expect  to  obtain 
any  one  thing  at  the  hands  of  God,  but  with  a  particular  re 
newed  respect  to  the  merits  of  a  Mediator;  and  withal, 
remind  the  congregation  of  the  same,  by  making  it  their  part 
to  renew  a  distinct  Amen  to  every  distinct  petition. 


334  Against  long  extempore  Prayers.          [SERM.  xvi. 

Add  to  this  the  excellent  contrivance  of  a  great  part  of  our 
liturgy,  into  alternate  responses ;  by  which  means  the  people 
are  put  to  bear  a  considerable  share  in  the  whole  service: 
which  makes  it  almost  impossible  for  them  to  be  only  idle 
hearers,  or,  which  is  worse,  mere  lookers-on :  as  they  are 
very  often,  and  may  be  always,  (if  they  can  but  keep  their 
eyes  open,)  at  the  long  tedious  prayers  of  the  nonconformists. 
And  this  indeed  is  that  which  makes  and  denominates  our 
liturgy  truly  and  properly  a  book  of  common  prayer.  For  I 
think  I  may  truly  avouch,  (how  strange  soever  it  may  seem 
at  first,)  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  common  or  joint 
prayer  anywhere  amongst  the  principal  dissenters  from  the 
church  of  England:  for  in  the  Romish  communion,  the 
priest  says  over  the  appointed  prayers  only  to  himself;  and 
the  rest  of  the  people,  not  hearing  a  word  of  what  he  says, 
repeat  also  their  own  particular  prayers  to  themselves,  and 
when  they  have  done,  go  their  way :  not  all  at  once,  as  nei 
ther  do  they  come  at  once,  but  scatteringly,  one  after  another, 
according  as  they  have  finished  their  devotions.  And  then, 
for  the  nonconformists,  their  prayers  being  all  extempore,  it 
is,  as  we  have  shown  before,  hardly  possible  for  any,  and  ut 
terly  impossible  for  all,  to  join  in  them  :  for  surely  people  can 
not  join  in  a  prayer  before  they  understand  it ;  nor  can  it  be 
imagined  that  all  capacities  should  presently  and  immediately 
understand  what  they  hear,  when,  possibly,  Holder-forth  him 
self  understands  not  what  he  says.  From  all  which  we  may 
venture  to  conclude,  that  that  excellent  thing,  common  prayer, 
which  is  the  joint  address  of  an  whole  congregation  with 
united  voice,  as  well  as  heart,  sending  up  their  devotions  to 
Almighty  God,  is  nowhere  to  be  found  in  these  kingdoms,  but 
in  that  best  and  nearest  copy  of  primitive  Christian  worship, 
the  divine  service,  as  it  is  performed  according  to  the  orders 
of  our  church. 

As  for  those  long  prayers  so  frequently  used  by  some  before 
their  sermons;  the  constitution  and  canons  of  our  church 
are  not  at  all  responsible  for  them,  having  provided  us  better 
things,  and  with  great  wisdom  appointed  a  form  of  prayer 
to  be  used  by  all  before  their  sermons.  But  as  for  this  way 
of  praying,  now  generally  in  use,  as  it  was  first  took  up  upon 
an  humor  of  novelty  and  popularity,  and  by  the  same  carried 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]          Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  335 

on  till  it  had  passed  into  a  custom,  and  so  put  the  rule  of 
the  church  first  out  of  use,  and  then  out  of  countenance 
also,  so,  if  it  be  rightly  considered,  it  will,  in  the  very  nature 
of  the  thing1  itself,  be  found  a  very  senseless  and  absurd  prac 
tice.  For  can  there  be  any  sense  or  propriety  in  beginning 
a  new,  tedious  prayer  in  the  pulpit,  just  after  the  church  has, 
for  near  an  hour  together,  with  great  variety  of  offices,  suit 
able  to  all  the  needs  of  the  congregation,  been  praying  for 
all  that  can  possibly  be  fit  for  Christians  to  pray  for  ?  Noth 
ing  certainly  can  be  more  irrational.  For  which  cause, 
amongst  many  more,  that  old  sober  form  of  bidding  prayer, 
which,  both  against  law  and  reason,  has  been  justled  out  of 
the  church  by  this  upstart,  puritanical  encroachment,  ought, 
with  great  reason,  to  be  restored  by  authority ;  and  both  the 
use  and  users  of  it,  by  a  strict  and  solemn  reinforcement  of 
the  canon  upon  all,  without  exception,  be  rescued  from  that 
unjust  scorn  of  the  factious  and  ignorant,  which  the  tyranny 
of  the  contrary  usurping  custom  will  otherwise  expose  them 
to.  For  surely  it  can  neither  be  decency  nor  order  for  our 
clergy  to  conform  to  the  fanatics,  as  many  in  their  prayers 
before  sermon  nowadays  do. 

And  thus  having  accounted  for  the  prayers  of  our  church, 
according  to  the  great  rule  prescribed  in  the  text,  Let  thy 
words  be  few,  let  us  now,  according  to  the  same,  consider 
also  the  way  of  praying,  so  much  used  and  applauded  by 
such  as  have  renounced  the  communion  and  liturgy  of  our 
church ;  and  it  is  but  reason  that  they  should  bring  us  some 
thing  better,  in  the  room  of  what  they  have  so  disdainfully 
cast  off.  But,  on  the  contrary,  are  not  all  their  prayers 
exactly  after  the  heathenish  and  pharisaical  copy?  always 
notable  for  those  two  things,  length  and  tautology?  Two 
whole  hours  for  one  prayer,  at  a  fast,  used  to  be  reckoned 
but  a  moderate  dose;  and  that,  for  the  most  part,  fraught 
with  such  irreverent,  blasphemous  expressions,  that  to  repeat 
them  would  profane  the  place  I  am  speaking  in ;  and  indeed 
they  seldom  "  carried  on  the  work  of  such  a  day,"  (as  their 
phrase  was,)  but  they  left  the  church  in  need  of  a  new  con 
secration.  Add  to  this  the  incoherence  and  confusion,  the 
endless  repetitions,  and  the  insufferable  nonsense  that  never 
failed  to  hold  out,  even  with  their  utmost  prolixity ;  so  that 


336  Against  Img  extempore  Prayers.          [SERM.  xvr. 

in  all  their  long  fasts,  from  first  to  last,  from  seven  in  the 
morning  to  seven  in  the  evening,  (which  was  their  measure,) 
the  pulpit  was  always  the  emptiest  thing  in  the  church  :  and 
I  never  knew  such  a  fast  kept  by  them,  but  their  hearers  had 
cause  to  begin  a  thanksgiving  as  soon  as  they  had  done. 
And  the  truth  is,  when  I  consider  the  matter  of  their  prayers, 
so  full  of  ramble  and  inconsequence,  and  in  every  respect  so 
very  like  the  language  of  a  dream ;  and  compare  it  with  their 
carriage  of  themselves  in  prayer,  with  their  eyes  for  the  most 
part  shut,  and  their  arms  stretched  out  in  yawning  posture, 
a  man  that  should  hear  any  of  them  pray,  might,  by  a  very 
pardonable  error,  be  induced  to  think  that  he  was  all  the 
time  hearing  one  talking  in  his  sleep :  besides  the  strange 
virtue  which  their  prayers  had  to  procure  sleep  in  others  too. 
So  that  he  who  should  be  present  at  all  their  long  cant,  would 
show  a  greater  ability  in  watching,  than  ever  they  could  pre 
tend  to  in  praying,  if  he  could  forbear  sleeping,  having  so 
strong  a  provocation  to  it,  and  so  fair  an  excuse  for  it.  In  a 
word,  such  were  their  prayers,  both  for  matter  and  expression, 
that,  could  any  one  truly  and  exactly  write  them  out,  it  would 
be  the  shrewdest  and  most  effectual  way  of  writing  against 
them  that  could  possibly  be  thought  of. 

I  should  not  have  thus  troubled  either  you  or  myself,  by 
raking  into  the  dirt  and  dunghill  of  these  men's  devotions, 
upon  the  account  of  any  thing  either  done  or  said  by  them  in 
the  late  times  of  confusion  ;  for  as  they  have  the  king's,  so  I 
wish  them  God's  pardon  also,  whom,  I  am  sure,  they  have 
offended  much  more  than  they  have  both  kings  put  together. 
But  that  which  has  provoked  me  thus  to  rip  up  and  expose 
to  you  their  nauseous  and  ridiculous  way  of  addressing  to 
God,  even  upon  the  most  solemn  occasions,  is,  that  intolerably 
rude  and  unprovoked  insolence  and  scurrility  with  which 
they  are  every  day  reproaching  and  scoffing  at  our  liturgy, 
and  the  users  of  it,  and  thereby  alienating  the  minds  of  the 
people  from  it,  to  such  a  degree,  that  many  thousands  are 
drawn  by  them  into  a  fatal  schism;  a  schism  that,  unre- 
pented  of,  and  continued  in,  will  as  infallibly  ruin  their  souls, 
as  theft,  whoredom,  murder,  or  any  other  of  the  most  crying, 
damning  sins  whatsoever.  But  leaving  this  to  the  justice  of 
the  government,  to  which  it  belongs  to  protect  us  in  our 


ECCLES.  v.  2.]         Against  long  extempore  Prayers.  337 

spiritual  as  well  as  in  our  temporal  concerns,  I  shall  only  say 
this,  that  nothing  can  be  more  for  the  honor  of  our  liturgy 
than  to  find  it  despised  only  by  those  who  have  made  them 
selves  remarkable  to  the  world  for  despising  the  Lord's  prayer 
as  much. 

In  the  mean  time,  for  ourselves  of  the  church  of  England, 
who,  without  pretending  to  any  new  lights,  think  it  equally  a 
duty  and  commendation  to  be  wise,  and  to  be  devout  only  to 
sobriety,  and  who  judge  it  no  dishonor  to  God  himself  to  be 
worshiped  according  to  law  and  rule.  If  the  directions  of 
Solomon,  the  precept  and  example  of  our  Saviour,  and  lastly, 
the  piety  and  experience  of  those  excellent  men  and  martyrs, 
who  first  composed,  and  afterwards  owned  our  liturgy  with 
their  dearest  blood,  may  be  looked  upon  as  safe  and  sufficient 
guides  to  us  in  our  public  worship  of  God ;  then,  upon  the 
joint  authority  of  all  these,  we  may  pronounce  our  liturgy 
the  greatest  treasure  of  rational  devotion  in  the  Christian 
world.  And  I  know  no  prayer  necessary,  that  is  not  in  the 
liturgy,  but  one,  which  is  this ;  That  God  would  vouchsafe  to 
continue  the  liturgy  itself  in  use,  honor,  and  veneration  in  this 
church  forever.  And  I  doubt  not  but  all  wise,  sober,  and 
good  Christians  will  with  equal  judgment  and  affection  give 
it  their  Amen. 

Now  to  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost, 
three  Persons  and  one  God,  be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is 
most  due,  all  praise,  might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now 
and  for  evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  XVII. 


THE  FIRST   SERMON  PREACHED  UPON  ROMANS  I.   32. 


Who  knowing  the  judgment  of  God,  that  they  which  commit  such  things  are  worthy  of 
death,  not  only  do  the  same,  but  have  pleasure  in  them  that  do  them. 

FROM  the  beginning  of  the  18th  verse  to  the  end  of  the 
31st,  (the  verse  immediately  going  before  the  text,)  we 
have  a  catalogue  of  the  blackest  sins  that  human  nature,  in 
its  highest  depravation,  is  capable  of  committing ;  and  this 
so  perfect,  that  there  seems  to  be  no  sin  imaginable  but  what 
may  be  reduced  to,  and  comprised  under,  some  of  the  sins 
here  specified.  In  a  word,  we  have  an  abridgment  of  the 
lives  and  practices  of  the  whole  heathen  world  ;  that  is,  of  all 
the  baseness  and  villainy  that  both  the  corruption  of  nature 
and  the  instigation  of  the  devil  could  for  so  many  ages,  by  all 
the  arts  and  opportunities,  all  the  motives  and  incentives  of 
sinning,  bring  the  sons  of  men  to.  And  yet,  as  full  and 
comprehensive  as  this  catalogue  of  sin  seems  to  be,  it  is  but 
of  sin  under  a  limitation ;  and  universality  of  sin  under  a  cer 
tain  kind,  that  is,  of  all  sins  of  direct  and  personal  commis 
sion.  And  you  will  say,  is  not  this  a  sufficient  comprehension 
of  all?  For  is  not  a  man's  person  the  compass  of  his  ac 
tions  ?  Or,  can  he  operate  further  than  he  does  exist  ?  Why 
yes,  in  some  sense  he  may;  he  may  not  only  commit  such 
and  such  sins  himself,  but  also  take  pleasure  in  others  that 
do  commit  them ;  which  expression  implies  these  two  things  : 
first,  That  thus  to  take  pleasure  in  other  men's  sins,  is  a 
distinct  sin  from  all  the  former;  and,  secondly,  That  it  is 
much  greater  than  the  former.  Forasmuch  as  these  terms, 
not  only  do  the  same,  but  also  take  pleasure,  &c.,  import  aggra 
vation  as  well  as  distinction,  and  are  properly  an  advance 


ROM.  i;  32.]     Of  taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  339 

a  minore  ad  majus,  a  progress  to  a  further  degree.  And  this 
indeed  is  the  furthest  that  human  pravity  can  reach,  the  high 
est  point  of  villainy  that  the  debauched  powers  of  man's  mind 
can  ascend  unto.  For  surely  that  sin  that  exceeds  idolatry, 
monstrous  unnatural  lusts,  covetousness,  maliciousness,  envy, 
murder,  deceit,  backbiting,  hatred  of  God,  spitefulness,  pride, 
disobedience  to  parents,  covenant-breaking,  want  of  natural 
affection,  implacableness,  unmercifulness,  and  the  like  :  I  say, 
that  sin,  that  is  a  pitch  beyond  all  these,  must  needs  be  such 
an  one  as  must  nonplus  the  devil  himself  to  proceed  further : 
it  is  the  very  extremity,  the  fullness,  and  the  concluding  period 
of  sin,  the  last  line  and  finishing  stroke  of  the  devil's  image 
drawn  upon  the  soul  of  man. 

Now  the  sense  of  the  words  may  be  fully  and  naturally 
cast  into  this  one  proposition,  which  shall  be  the  subject  of 
the  following  discourse ;  viz., 

That  the  guilt  arising  from  a  man's  delighting  or  taking 
pleasure  in  other  men's  sins,  or  (which  is  all  one)  in  other 
men  for  their  sins,  is  greater  than  he  can  possibly  contract  by 
a  commission  of  the  same  sins  in  his  own  person. 

For  the  handling  of  which,  I  can  not  but  think  it  super 
fluous  to  offer  at  any  explication  of  what  it  is,  to  take  pleasure 
in  other  men's  sins  ;  it  being  impossible  for  any  man  to  be  so 
far  unacquainted  with  the  motions  and  operations  of  his  own 
mind  as  not  to  know  how  it  is  affected  and  disposed,  when 
any  thing  pleases  or  delights  him.  And  therefore  I  shall 
state  the  prosecution  of  the  proposition  upon  these  following 
things  : 

I.  I  shall  show  what  it  is  that  brings  a  man  to  such  a  dis 
position  of  mind  as  to  take  pleasure  in  other  men's  sins. 

II.  I  shall  show  the  reasons  why  a  man's  being  disposed  to 
do  so,  comes  to  be  attended  with  such  an  extraordinary  guilt ; 
and, 

III.  and  lastly,  I  shall  declare  what  kind  of  persons  are  to 
be  reckoned  under  this  character.     Of  each  of  which  in  their 
order. 

And  first,  for  the  first  of  these,  What  it  is  that  brings  a 
man,  &c. 

In  order  to  which,  I  shall  premise  these  four  considera 
tions  : 


340  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  xvii. 

1.  That  every  man   naturally  has  a  distinguishing  sense 
of  turpe  et  honestum  ;  of  what  is  honest  and  what  is  dishonest ; 
of  what  is  fit,  and  what  is  not  fit  to  he  done.     There  are  those 
practical  principles  and  rules  of  action,  treasured  up  in  that 
part  of  man's  mind,  called  hy  the  schools  ownjprjo-is,  that,  like 
the  candle  of  the  Lord,  set  up  hy  God  himself  in  the  heart 
of  every  man,  discovers  to  him  both  what  he  is  to  do,  and 
what  to  avoid  :  they  are  a  light,  lighting  every  man  that  cometh 
into  the  world. 

And  in  respect  of  which  principally  it  is,  that  God  is  said 
not  to  have  left  himself  without  witness  in  the  world ;  there 
being  something  fixed  in  the  nature  of  man  that  will  be  sure 
to  testify  and  declare  for  him. 

2.  The  second  thing  to  be  considered  is,  That  there  is 
consequently  upon  this   distinguishing  principle   an  inward 
satisfaction  or  dissatisfaction   arising  in  the  heart  of  every 
man,  after  he  has  done  a  good  or  an  evil  action ;  an  action 
agreeable  to,  or  deviating  from,  this  great  rule.     And  this,  no 
doubt,  proceeds  not  only  from  the  real  un suitableness  that 
every  thing  sinful  or  dishonest  bears  to  the  nature  of  man, 
but  also  from  a  secret,  inward,  foreboding  fear,  that   some 
evil  or  other  will  follow  the  doing  of  that  which  a  man's  own 
conscience  disallows  him  in.     For  no  man  naturally  is  or  can 
be  cheerful  immediately  upon  the  doing  of  a  wicked  action  : 
there  being  something  within  him  that  presently  gives  sen 
tence  against  him  for  it :  which,  no  question,  is  the  voice  of 
God  himself,  speaking  in  the  hearts  of  men,  whether  they 
understand  it  or  no ;  and  by  secret  intimations  giving  the 
sinner  a  foretaste  of  that  direful  cup  which   he  is  like  to 
drink  more  deeply  of  hereafter. 

3.  The  third  thing  to  be  considered  is,  That  this  distin 
guishing  sense  of  good  and  evil,  and  this  satisfaction  or  dis 
satisfaction  of  mind  consequent  upon  a  man's  acting  suitably 
or  unsuitably  to  it,  is  a  principle  neither  presently  nor  easily 
to  be  worn   out  or  extinguished.      For  besides"  that  it  is 
founded  in  nature,  (which  kind  of  things  are  always  most 
durable  and  lasting,)  the  great  important  end  that  God  de 
signs  it  for,  (which  is  no  less  than  the  government  of  the 
noblest  part  of  the  world,   mankind,)  sufficiently  shows  the 
necessity  of  its  being  rooted  deep  in  the  heart,  and  put  be- 


ROM.  i.  32.]       talcing  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  341 

*e 

yond  the  danger  of  being  torn  up  by  any  ordinary  violence 
done  to  it. 

4.  The  fourth  and  last  thing  to  be  considered  is,  That  that 
which  weakens,  and  directly  tends  to  extinguish  this  principle, 
(so  far  as  it  is  capable  of  being  extinguished,)  is  an  inferior, 
sensitive  principle,  which  receives  its  gratifications  from  ob 
jects  clean  contrary  to  the  former ;  and  which  affect  a  man  in 
the  state  of  this  present  life  much  more  warmly  and  vividly 
than  those  which  affect  only  his  nobler  part,  his  mind.  So 
that  there  being  a  contrariety  between  those  things  that  con 
science  inclines  to  and  those  that  entertain  the  senses,  and 
since  the  more  quick  and  affecting  pleasure  still  arises  from 
these  latter,  it  follows  that  the  gratifications  of  these  are  more 
powerful  to  command  the  principles  of  action  than  the  other, 
and  consequently  are,  for  the  most  part,  too  hard  for,  and 
victorious  over,  the  dictates  of  right  reason. 

Now  from  these  four  considerations,  thus  premised,  we  nat 
urally  infer  these  two  things  : 

First,  That  no  man  is  quickly  or  easily  brought  to  take  a 
full  pleasure  and  delight  in  his  own  sins.  For  though  sin 
offers  itself  in  never  so  pleasing  and  alluring  a  dress  at  first, 
yet  the  remorse,  and  inward  regrets  of  the  soul,  upon  the 
commission  of  it,  infinitely  overbalance  those  faint  and  tran 
sient  gratifications  it  affords  the  senses.  So  that,  upon  the 
whole  matter,  the  sinner,  even  at  his  highest  pitch  of  enjoy 
ment,  is  not  pleased  with  it  so  much,  but  he  is  afflicted  more. 
And,  as  long  as  these  inward  rejolts  and  recoilings  of  the  mind 
continue,  (which  they  will  certainly  do  for  a  considerable  part 
of  a  man's  life,)  the  sinner  will  find  his  accounts  of  pleasure 
very  poor  and  short,  being  so  mixed  and  indeed  overdone  with 
the  contrary  impressions  of  trouble  upon  his  mind,  that  it  is 
but  a  bitter-sweet  at  best ;  and  the  fine  colors  of  the  serpent 
do  by  no  meaais  make  amends  for  the  smart  and  poison  of  his 
sting. 

Secondly,  The  other  thing  to  be  inferred  is,  that,  as  no  man 
is  quickly  or  easily  brought  to  take  a  full  pleasure  or  delight 
in  his  own  sins,  so  much  less  easily  can  he  be  brought  to  take 
pleasure  in  those  of  other  men.  The  reason  is,  because  the 
chief  motive,  as  we  have  observed,  that  induces  a  man  to  sin, 
which  is  the  gratification  of  his  sensitive  part,  by  a  sinful  act, 


342  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  xvn. 

can  not  be  had  from  the  sins  of  another  man ;  since  naturally, 
and  directly,  they  aifect  only  the  agent  that  commits  them. 
For  certainly  another  man's  intemperance  can  not  aifect  my 
sensuality,  any  more  than  the  meat  and  drink  that  I  take  into 
my  mouth  can  please  his  palate :  but  of  this  more  fully  in 
some  of  the  following  particulars. 

In  the  mean  time,  it  is  evident  from  reason,  that  there  is  a 
considerable  difficulty  in  a  man's  arriving  to  such  a  disposition 
of  mind  as  shall  make  him  take  pleasure  in  other  men's  sins ; 
and  yet  it  is  also  as  evident  from  the  text,  and  from  experience 
too,  that  some  men  are  brought  to  do  so.  And  therefore, 
since  there  is  no  effect,  of  what  kind  soever,  but  is  resolvable 
into  some  cause,  we  will  inquire  into  the  cause  of  this  vile 
and  preternatural  temper  of  mind,  that  should  make  a  man 
please  himself  with  that  which  can  noways  reach  or  aifect 
those  faculties  and  principles  which  nature  has  made  the 
proper  seat  and  subject  of  pleasure.  Now  the  causes  (or  at 
least  some  of  the  causes)  that  debauch  and  corrupt  the  mind 
of  man  to  such  a  degree  as  to  take  pleasure  in  other  men's 
sins,  are  these  five  : 

1.  A  commission  of  the  same  sins  in  a  man's  own  person. 
This  is  imported  in  the  very  words  of  the  text ;  where  it  is 
said  of  such  persons,  that  they  not  only  do  the  same  things; 
which  must  therefore  imply  that  they  do  them.  It  is  con 
versation  and  acquaintance,  that  must  give  delight  in  things 
and  actions,  as  well  as  in  persons :  and  it  is  trial  that  must 
begin  the  acquaintance.  It  being  hardly  imaginable,  that 
one  should  be  delighted  with  a  sin  at  second  hand,  till  he  has 
known  it  at  the  first.  Delight  is  the  natural  result  of  practice 
and  experiment ;  and  when  it  flows  from  any  thing  else,  so 
far  it  recedes  from  nature.  None  look  with  so  much  pleasure 
upon  the  works  of  art  as  those  who  are  artists  themselves. 
They  are  therefore  their  delight,  because  they  were  heretofore 
their  employment ;  and  they  love  to  see  such  things,  because 
they  once  loved  to  do  them.  In  like  manner,  a  man  must  sin 
himself  into  a  love  of  other  men's  sins  ;  for  a  bare  notion 
or  speculation  of  this  black  art  will  not  carry  him  so  far.  No 
sober,  temperate  person  in  the  world,  (whatsoever  other  sins 
he  may  be  inclinable  to,  and  guilty  of,)  can  look  with  any 
complacency  upon  the  drunkenness  and  sottishness  of  his 


ROM.  i.a.]         taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  343 

neighbor ;  nor  can  any  chaste  person  (be  his  other  failings 
what  they  will)  reflect  with  any  pleasure  or  delight  upon  the 
filthy,  unclean  conversation  of  another,  though  never  so  much 
in  fashion,  and  vouched,  not  by  common  use  only,  but  ap 
plause.  No,  he  must  be  first  an  exercised,  thorough-paced 
practitioner  of  these  vices  himself,  and  they  must  have  en 
deared  themselves  to  him  by  those  personal  gratifications  he 
had  received  from  them,  before  he  can  come  to  like  them  so 
far  as  to  be  pleased  and  enamored  with  them  wheresoever  he 
sees  them.  It  is  possible  indeed,  that  a  sober  or  a  chaste 
person,  upon  the  stock  of  ill-will,  envy,  or  spiritual  pride, 
(which  is  all  the  religion  that  some  have,)  may  be  glad  to  see 
the  intemperance  and  debauchery  of  some  about  them;  but 
it  is  impossible  that  such  persons  should  take  any  delight 
in  the  men  themselves  for  being  so.  The  truth  is,  in  such  a 
case,  they  do  not  properly  delight  in  the  vice  itself,  though 
they  inwardly  rejoice  (and  after  a  godly  sort,  no  doubt)  to  see 
another  guilty  of  it ;  but  they  delight  in  the  mischief  and 
disaster  which  they  know  it  will  assuredly  bring  upon  him 
whom  they  hate  and  wish  ill  to  :  they  rejoice  not  in  it,  as  in 
a  delightful  object,  but  as  in  a  cause  and  means  of  their 
neighbor's  ruin.  So  grateful,  nay,  so  delicious,  are  even  the 
horridest  villainies  committed  by  others  to  the  pharisaical 
piety  of  some  ;  who  in  the  mean  time  can  be  wholly  uncon 
cerned  for  the  reproach  brought  thereby  upon  the  name  of 
God  and  the  honor  of  religion,  so  long  as  by  the  same  their 
sanctified  spleen  is  gratified  in  their  brother's  infamy  and  de 
struction. 

This  therefore  we  may  reckon  upon,  that  scarce  any  man 
passes  to  a  liking  of  sin  in  others,  but  by  first  practicing  it 
himself;  and  consequently  may  take  it  for  a  shrewd  indication 
and  sign,  whereby  to  judge  of  the  manners  of  those  who  have 
sinned  with  too  much  art  and  caution  to  suffer  the  eye  of  the 
world  to  charge  some  sins  directly  upon  their  conversation. 
For  though  such  kind  of  men  have  lived  never  so  much  upon 
the  reserve,  as  to  their  personal  behavior,  yet,  if  they  be  ob 
served  to  have  a  particular  delight  in,  and  fondness  for,  per 
sons  noted  for  any  sort  of  sin,  it  is  ten  to  one  but  there  was 
a  communication  in  the  sin,  before  there  was  so  in  affection. 
The  man  has,  by  this,  directed  us  to  a  copy  of  himself;  and 


344  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SEEM.  xvn. 

though  we  can  not  always  come  to  a  sight  of  the  original,  yet 
by  a  true  copy  we  may  know  all  that  is  in  it. 

2dly,  A  second  cause  that  brings  a  man  to  take  pleasure  in 
other  men's  sins  is,  not  only  a  commission  of  those  sins  in  his 
own  person,  but  also  a  commission  of  them  against  the  full 
light  and  conviction  of  his  conscience.  For  this  also  is  ex 
pressed  in  the  text ;  where  the  persons  charged  with  this 
wretched  disposition  of  mind  are  said  to  have  been  such  as 
knew  the  judgment  of  God,  that  they  who  committed  such  things 
were  worthy  of  death.  They  knew  that  there  was  a  righteous 
and  a  searching  law,  directly  forbidding  such  practices ;  and 
they  knew  that  it  carried  with  it  the  divine  stamp,  that  it 
was  the  law  of  God ;  they  knew  also,  that  the  sanction  of  it 
was  under  the  greatest  and  dreadfullest  of  all  penalties,  death. 
And  this  surely,  one  would  think,  was  knowledge  enough  to 
have  opened  both  a  man's  eyes,  and  his  heart  too;  his  eyes 
to  see,  and  his  heart  to  consider,  the  intolerable  mischief  that 
the  commission  of  the  sin  set  before  him  must  infallibly 
plunge  him  into.  Nevertheless,  the  persons  here  mentioned 
were  resolved  to  venture,  and  to  commit  the  sin,  even  while 
conscience  stood  protesting  against  it.  They  were  such  as 
broke  through  all  mounds  of  law,  such  as  laughed  at  the 
sword  of  vengeance,  which  divine  justice  brandished  in  their 
faces.  For  we  must  know  that  God  has  set  a  flaming  sword, 
not  only  before  paradise,  but  before  hell  itself  also,  to  keep 
men  out  of  this,  as  well  as  out  of  the  other.  And  conscience 
is  the  angel  into  whose  hand  this  sword  is  put.  But  if  now 
the  sinner  shall  not  only  wrestle  with  this  angel,  but  throw 
him  too,  and  win  so  complete  a  victory  over  his  conscience 
that  all  these  considerations  shall  be  able  to  strike  no  terror 
into  his  mind,  lay  no  restraint  upon  his  lusts,  no  control 
upon  his  appetites,  he  is  certainly  too  strong  for  the  means 
of  grace,  and  his  heart  lies  open,  like  a  broad  and  high  road, 
for  all  the  sin  and  villainy  in  the  world  freely  to  pass  through. 

The  truth  is,  if  we  impartially  consider  the  nature  of  these 
sins  against  conscience,  we  shall  find  them  such  strange 
paradoxes,  that  a  man  must  balk  all  common  principles,  and 
act  contrary  to  the  natural  way  and  motive  of  all  human  ac 
tions,  in  the  commission  of  them.  For  that  which  naturally 
moves  a  man  to  do  any  thing,  must  be  the  apprehension  and 


ROM.  i.  32.]        talcing  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  345 

expectation  of  some  good  from  the  thing  which  he  is  ahout 
to  do ;  and  that  which  naturally  keeps  a  man  from  doing  of 
a  thing  must  he  the  apprehension  and  fear  of  some  mischief 
likely  to  ensue  from  that  thing  or  action  that  he  is  ready  to 
engage  in.  But  now,  for  a  man  to  do  a  thing,  while  his 
conscience,  the  hest  light  that  he  has  to  judge  hy,  assures 
him  that  he  shall  he  infinitely,  unsupportahly  miserable  if  he 
does  it,  this  is  certainly  unnatural,  and,  one  would  imagine, 
impossible. 

And  therefore,  so  far  as  one  may  judge,  while  a  man  acts 
against  his  conscience,  he  acts  by  a  principle  of  direct  infi 
delity,  and  does  not  really  believe  that  those  things  that  God 
has  thus  threatened  shall  ever  come  to  pass.  For,  though  he 
may  yield  a  general  faint  assent  to  the  truth  of  those  propo 
sitions,  as  they  stand  recorded  in  scripture,  yet,  for  a  thor 
ough,  practical  belief,  that  those  general  propositions  shall 
be  particularly  made  good  upon  his  person,  no  doubt,  for  the 
time  that  he  is  sinning  against  conscience,  such  a  belief  has 
no  place  in  his  mind.  Which  being  so,  it  is  easy  to  conceive 
how  ready  and*  disposed  this  must  needs  leave  the  soul  to 
admit  of  any,  even  the  most  horrid,  unnatural  proposals  that 
the  devil  himself  can  suggest :  for  conscience  being  once 
extinct,  and  the  Spirit  of  God  withdrawn,  (which  never  stays 
with  a  man,  when  conscience  has  once  left  him,)  the  soul, 
like  the  first  matter  to  all  forms,  has  an  universal  propensity 
to  all  lewdness.  For  every  violation  of  conscience  propor- 
tionably  wears  off  something  of  its  native  tenderness ;  which 
tenderness  being  the  cause  of  that  anguish  and  remorse  that 
it  feels  upon  the  commission  of  sin,  it  follows  that,  when  by 
degrees  it  comes  to  have  worn  off  all  this  tenderness,  the 
sinner  will  find  no  trouble  of  mind  upon  his  doing  the  very 
wickedest  and  worst  of  actions ;  and  consequently,  that  this 
is  the  most  direct  and  effectual  introduction  to  all  sorts  and 
degrees  of  sin. 

For  which  reason  it  was  that  I  alleged  sinning  against 
conscience  for  one  of  the  causes  of  this  vile  temper  and  habit 
of  mind,  which  we  are  now  discoursing  of :  not  that  it  has 
any  special  productive  efficiency  of  this  particular  sort  of  sin 
ning,  more  than  of  any  other,  but  that  it  is  a  general  cause 
of  this,  as  of  all  other  great  vices ;  and  that  it  is  impossible 


346  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  xvn. 

but  a  man  must  have  first  passed  this  notable  stage,  and  got 
his  conscience  throughly  debauched  and  hardened,  before  he 
can  arrive  to  the  hight  of  sin ;  which  I  account  the  delight 
ing  in  other  men's  sins  to  be. 

3dly,  A  third  cause  of  this  villainous  disposition  of  mind, 
besides  a  man's  personal  commission  of  such  and  such  sins, 
and  his  commission  of  them  against  conscience,  must  be  also 
his  continuance  in  them.  For  God  forbid  that  every  single 
commission  of  a  sin,  though  great  for  its  kind,  and  withal 
acted  against  conscience  for  its  aggravation,  should  so  far 
deprave  the  soul,  and  bring  it  to  such  a  reprobate  sense  and 
condition,  as  to  take  pleasure  in  other  men's  sins.  For  we 
know  what  a  foul  sin  David  committed,  and  what  a  crime  St. 
Peter  himself  fell  into;  both  of  them,  no  doubt,  fully  and 
clearly  against  the  dictates  of  their  conscience ;  yet  we  do  not 
find  that  either  of  them  was  thereby  brought  to  such  an 
impious  frame  of  heart  as  to  delight  in  their  own  sins,  and 
much  less  in  other  men's.  And  therefore  it  is  not  every  sin 
ful  violation  of  conscience  that  can  quench  the  Spirit  to  such 
a  degree  as  we  have  been  speaking  of;  but  it  must  be  a  long 
inveterate  course  and  custom  of  sinning  after  this  manner, 
that  at  length  produces  and  ends  in  such  a  cursed  effect. 
For  this  is  so  great  a  masterpiece  in  sin,  that  no  man  begins 
with  it :  he  must  have  passed  his  tyrocinium,  or  novitiate,  in 
sinning,  before  he  can  come  to  this,  be  he  never  so  quick  a 
proficient.  No  man  can  mount  so  fast  as  to  set  his  foot  upon 
the  highest  step  of  the  ladder  at  first.  Before  a  man  can 
come  to  be  pleased  with  a  sin,  because  he  sees  his  neighbor 
commit  it,  he  must  have  had  such  a  long  acquaintance  with  it 
himself  as  to  create  a  kind  of  intimacy  or  friendship  between 
him  and  that ;  and  then,  we  know,  a  man  is  naturally  glad  to 
see  his  old  friend  not  only  at  his  own  house,  but  wheresoever 
he  meets  him.  It  is  generally  the  property  of  an  old  sinner 
to  find  a  delight  in  reviewing  his  own  villainies  in  the  prac 
tice  of  other  men  ;  to  see  his  sin  and  himself,  as  it  were,  in 
reversion  ;  and  to  find  a  greater  satisfaction  in  beholding  him 
who  succeeds  him  in  his  vice,  than  him  who  is  to  succeed  him 
in  his  estate.  In  the  matter  of  sin,  age  makes  a  greater 
change  upon  the  soul  than  it  does  or  can  upon  the  body. 
And  as  in  this,  if  we  compare  the  picture  of  a  man,  drawn  at 


ROM.  i.  32.]        taking  Pleasure  in  oilier  Men's  Sins.  347 

the  years  of  seventeen  or  eighteen,  with  a  picture  of  the  same 
person  at  threescore  and  ten,  hardly  the  least  trace  or  simili 
tude  of  one  face  can  be  found  in  the  other.  So  for  the  soul, 
the  difference  of  the  dispositions  and  qualities  of  the  inner 
man  will  be  found  much  greater.  Compare  the  harmlessness, 
the  credulity,  the  tenderness,  the  modesty,  and  the  ingenuous 
pliableness  to  virtuous  counsels,  which  is  in  youth,  as  it  comes 
fresh  and  untainted  out  of  the  hands  of  nature,  with  the  mis- 
chievousness,  the  slyness,  the  craft,  the  impudence,  the  false 
hood,  and  the  confirmed  obstinacy  in  most  sorts  of  sin,  that 
is  to  be  found  in  an  aged,  long-practiced  sinner,  and  you  will 
confess  the  complexion  and  hue  of  his  soul  to  be  altered  more 
than  that  of  his  face.  Age  has  given  him  another  body,  and 
custom  another  mind.  All  those  seeds  of  virtue  and  good 
morality,  that  were  the  natural  endowments  of  our  first  years, 
are  lost,  and  dead  forever.  And  in  respect  of  the  native 
innocence  of  childhood,  no  man,  through  old  age,  becomes 
twice  a  child.  The  vices  of  old  age  have  in  them  the  stiffness 
of  it  too.  And  as  it  is  the  unfittest  time  to  learn  in,  so  the 
unfitness  of  it  to  unlearn  will  be  found  much  greater. 

Which  considerations,  joined  with  that  of  its  imbecility, 
make  it  the  proper  season  for  a  superannuated  sinner  to  en 
joy  the  delights  of  sin  in  the  rebound ;  and  to  supply  the 
impotence  of  practice  by  the  airy,  fantastic  pleasure  of 
memory  and  reflection.  For  all  that  can  be  allowed  him  now, 
is  to  refresh  his  decrepit,  effete  sensuality  with  the  transcript 
and  history  of  his  former  life,  recognized,  and  read  over  by 
him,  in  the  vicious  rants  of  the  vigorous  youthful  debauchees 
of  the  present  time,  whom  (with  an  odd  kind  of  passion, 
mixed  of  pleasure  and  envy  too)  he  sees  flourishing  in  all  the 
bravery  and  prime  of  their  age  and  vice.  An  old  wrestler 
loves  to  look  on,  and  to  be  near  the  lists,  though  feebleness 
will  not  let  him  offer  at  the  prize.  An  old  huntsman  finds 
a  music  in  the  noise  of  hounds,  though  he  can  not  follow  the 
chase.  An  old  drunkard  loves  a  tavern,  though  he  can  not 
go  to  it,  but  as  he  is  supported,  and  led  by  another,  just  as 
some  are  observed  to  come  from  thence.  And  an  old  wanton 
will  be  doting  upon  women,  when  he  can  scarce  see  them 
without  spectacles.  And  to  show  the  true  love  and  faithful 
allegiance  that  the  old  servants  and  subjects  of  vice  ever  after 


348  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  xvn. 

bear  to  it,  nothing  is  more  usual  and  frequent  than  to  hear 
that  such  as  have  been  strumpets  in  their  youth,  turn  pro 
curers  in  their  age.  Their  great  concern  is,  that  the  vice 
may  still  go  on. 

4thly,  A  fourth  cause  of  men's  taking  pleasure  in  the  sins 
of  others,  is  from  that  meanness  and  poor-spiritedness  that 
naturally  and  inseparably  accompanies  all  guilt.  Whosoever 
is  conscious  to  himself  of  sin,  feels  in  himself  (whether  he 
will  own  it  or  no)  a  proportionable  shame,  and  a  secret  de 
pression  of  spirit  thereupon.  And  this  is  so  irksome,  and 
uneasy  to  man's  mind,  that  he  is  restless  to  relieve  and  rid 
himself  from  it :  for  which  he  finds  no  way  so  effectual  as  to 
get  company  in  the  same  sin.  For  company,  in  any  action, 
gives  both  credit  to  that,  and  countenance  to  the  agent ;  and 
so  much  as  the  sinner  gets  of  this,  so  much  he  casts  off  of 
shame.  Singularity  in  sin  puts  it  out  of  fashion ;  since  to  be 
alone  in  any  practice  seems  to  make  the  judgment  of  the 
world  against  it ;  but  the  concurrence  of  others  is  a  tacit  ap 
probation  of  that  in  which  they  concur.  Solitude  is  a  kind 
of  nakedness,  and  the  result  of  that,  we  know,  is  shame.  It 
is  company  only  that  can  bear  a  man  out  in  an  ill  thing ;  and 
he  who  is  to  encounter  and  fight  the  law,  will  be  sure  to  need 
a  second.  No  wonder  therefore  if  some  take  delight  in  the 
immoralities  and  baseness  of  others;  for  nothing  can  sup 
port  their  minds  drooping,  and  sneaking,  and  inwardly  re 
proaching  them,  from  a  sense  of  their  own  guilt,  but  to  see 
others  as  bad  as  themselves. 

To  be  vicious  amongst  the  virtuous,  is  a  double  disgrace 
and  misery;  but  where  the  whole  company  is  vicious  and 
debauched,  they  presently  like,  or  at  least  easily  pardon  one 
another.  And  as  it  is  observed  by  some  that  there  is  none 
so  homely  but  loves  a  looking-glass,  so  it  is  certain  that 
there  is  no  man  so  vicious,  but  delights  to  see  the  image  of 
his  vice  reflected  upon  him,  from  one  who  exceeds,  or  at  least 
equals  him  in  the  same. 

Sin  in  itself  is  not  only  shameful,  but  also  weak ;  and  it 
seeks  a  remedy  for  both  in  society :  for  it  is  this  that  must 
give  it  both  color  and  support.  But  on  the  contrary,  how 
great  and  (as  I  may  so  speak)  how  self-sufficient  a  thing  is 
virtue  !  It  needs  no  credit  from  abroad,  no  countenance  from 


ROM.  i.  32.]        talcing  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  349 

the  multitude.  Were  there  but  one  virtuous  man  in  the 
world,  he  would  hold  up  his  head  with  confidence  and  honor ; 
he  would  shame  the  world,  and  not  the  world  him.  For,  ac 
cording  to  that  excellent  and  great  saying,  Prov.  xiv.  14,  A 
good  man  shall  be  satisfied  from  himself.  He  needs  look  no 
further.  But  if  he  desires  to  see  the  same  virtue  propagated 
and  diffused  to  those  about  him,  it  is  for  their  sakes,  not  his 
own.  It  is  his  charity  that  wishes,  and  not  his  necessity  that 
requires  it.  For  solitude  and  singularity  can  neither  daunt 
nor  disgrace  him ;  unless  we  could  suppose  it  a  disgrace  for 
a  man  to  be  singularly  good. 

But  a  vicious  person,  like  the  basest  sort  of  beasts,  never 
enjoys  himself  but  in  the  herd.  Company,  he  thinks,  lessens 
the  shame  of  vice,  by  sharing  it ;  and  abates  the  torrent  of 
a  common  odium,  by  driving  it  into  many  channels ;  and 
therefore,  if  he  can  not  wholly  avoid  the  eye  of  the  observer, 
he  hopes  to  distract  it  at  least  by  a  multiplicity  of  the  object. 
These,  I  confess,  are  poor  shifts,  and  miserable  shelters,  for  a 
sick  and  a  self-upbraiding  conscience  to  fly  to ;  and  yet  they 
are  some  of  the  best  that  the  debauchee  has  to  cheer  up  his 
spirits  with  in  this  world.  For  if,  after  all,  he  must  needs  be 
seen  and  took  notice  of,  with  all  his  filth  and  noisomeness 
about  him,  he  promises  himself  however,  that  it  will  be  some 
allay  to  his  reproach  to  be  but  one  of  many,  to  march  in  a 
troop,  and  by  a  preposterous  kind  of  ambition  to  be  seen  in 
bad  company. 

5.  The  fifth  and  last  cause,  (that  I  shall  mention,)  inducing 
men  to  take  pleasure  in  the  sins  of  others,  is  a  certain,  pecu 
liar,  unaccountable  malignity  that  is  in  some  natures  and  dis 
positions.  I  know  no  other  name  or  word  to  express  it  by. 
But  the  thing  itself  is  frequently  seen  in  the  temporal  con 
cerns  of  this  world.  For  are  there  not  some  who  find  an 
inward,  secret  rejoicing  in  themselves,  when  they  see  or  hear 
of  the  loss  or  calamity  of  their  neighbor,  though  no  imagi 
nable  interest  or  advantage  of  their  own  is  or  can  be  served 
thereby?  But  it  seems  there  is  a  base,  wolfish  principle 
within,  that  is  fed  and  gratified  with  another's  misery ;  and 
no  other  account  or  reason  in  the  world  can  be  given  of  its 
being  so,  but  that  it  is  the  nature  of  the  beast  to  delight  in 
such  things. 


350  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SEEM.  xvn. 

And  as  this  occurs  frequently  in  temporals,  so  there  is  no 
doubt  but  that  with  some  few  persons  it  acts  the  same  way 
also  in  spirituals.  I  say,  with  some  few  persons ;  for,  thanks 
be  to  God,  the  common,  known  corruption  of  human  nature, 
upon  the  bare  stock  of  its  original  depravation,  does  not 
usually  proceed  so  far.  Such  an  one,  for  instance,  was  that 
wretch  who  made  a  poor  captive  renounce  his  religion,  in 
order  to  the  saving  of  his  life ;  and  when  he  had  so  done, 
presently  run  him  through,  glorying  that  he  had  thereby  de 
stroyed  his  enemy,  both  body  and  soul.  But  more  remarkably 
such  was  that  monster  of  diabolical  baseness  here  in  England, 
who,  some  years  since,  in  the  reign  of  King  Charles  the  First, 
suffered  death  for  crimes  scarce  ever  heard  of  before;  hav 
ing  frequently  boasted,  that  as  several  men  had  their  several 
pleasures  and  recreations,  so  his  peculiar  pleasure  and  recre 
ation  was  to  destroy  souls,  and  accordingly  to  put  men  upon 
such  practices  as  he  knew  would  assuredly  do  it.  But  above 
all,  the  late  saying  of  some  of  the  dissenting  brotherhood 
ought  to  be  proclaimed  and  celebrated  to  their  eternal  honor ; 
who,  while  there  was  another  new  oath  preparing,  which  they 
both  supposed  and  hoped  most  of  the  clergy  would  not  take, 
in  a  most  insulting  manner  gave  out  thereupon,  that  they 
were  resolved  either  to  have  our  livings,  or  to  damn  our  souls. 
An  expression,  so  fraught  with  all  the  spite  and  poison  which 
the  devil  himself  could  infuse  into  words,  that  it  ought  to  re 
main  as  a  monument  of  the  humanity,  charity,  and  Christi 
anity  of  this  sort  of  men  forever. 

Now  such  a  temper  or  principle  as  these  and  the  like  pas 
sages  do  import,  I  call  a  peculiar  malignity  of  nature ;  since 
it  is  evident,  that  neither  the  inveterate  love  of  vice,  nor  yet 
the  long  practice  of  it,  and  that  even  against  the  reluctancies 
and  light  of  conscience,  can  of  itself  have  this  devilish  effect 
upon  the  mind,  but  as  it  falls  in  with  such  a  villainous  preter 
natural  disposition  as  I  have  mentioned.  For  to  instance  in 
the  particular  case  of  parents  and  children,  let  a  father  be 
never  so  vicious,  yet,  generally  speaking,  he  would  not  have 
his  child  so.  Nay,  it  is  certain  that  some,  who  have  been  as 
corrupt  in  their  morals  as  vice  could  make  them,  have  yet 
been  infinitely  solicitous  to  have  their  children  soberly,  virtu 
ously,  and  piously  brought  up :  so  that,  although  they  have 


ROM.  i.  32.1        taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sim.  351 

begot  sons  after  their  own  likeness,  yet  they  are  not  willing  to 
breed  them  so  too. 

Which,  by  the  way,  is  the  most  pregnant  demonstration  in 
the  world,  of  that  self-condemning  sentence,  that  is  perpetu 
ally  sounding  in  every  great  sinner's  breast ;  and  of  that  in 
ward,  grating  dislike  of  the  very  thing  he  practices,  that  he 
should  abhor  to  see  the  same  in  any  one  whose  good  he 
nearly  tenders,  and  whose  person  he  wishes  well  to.  But  if 
now,  on  the  other  side,  we  should  chance  to  find  a  father  cor 
rupting  his  son,  or  a  mother  debauching  her  daughter,  (as 
God  knows  such  monsters  have  been  seen  within  the  four 
seas,)  we  must  not  charge  this  barely  upon  an  high  predomi 
nance  of  vice  in  these  persons,  but  much  more  upon  a  peculiar 
anomaly  and  baseness  of  nature :  if  the  name  of  nature  may 
be  allowed  to  that  which  seems  to  be  an  utter  cashiering  of 
it ;  a  deviation  from,  and  a  contradiction  to,  the  common 
principles  of  humanity.  For  this  is  such  a  disposition  as 
strips  the  father  of  the  man  ;  as  makes  him  sacrifice  his  chil 
dren  to  Moloch ;  and  as  much  outdo  the  cruelty  of  a  cannibal 
or  a  Saturn,  as  it  is  more  barbarous  and  inhuman  to  damn  a 
child  than  to  devour  him.  \Ve  sometimes  read  and  hear  of 
monstrous  births,  but  we  may  often  see  a  greater  monstrosity 
in  educations :  thus  when  a  father  has  begot  a  man,  he  trains 
him  up  into  a  beast,  making  even  his  own  house  a  stews,  a 
bordel,  and  a  school  of  lewdness,  to  instill  the  rudiments  of 
vice  into  the  unwary,  flexible  years  of  his  poor  children,  poi 
soning  their  tender  minds  with  the  irresistible,  authentic 
venom  of  his  base  example ;  so  that  all  the  instruction  they 
find  within  their  father's  walls  shall  be  only  to  be  disciplined 
to  an  earlier  practice  of  sin,  to  be  catechized  into  all  the 
mysteries  of  iniquity,  and,  at  length,  confirmed  into  a  mature, 
grown-up,  incorrigible  state  of  debauchery.  And  this  some 
parents  call  a-teaching  their  children  to  know  the  world,  and 
to  study  men :  thus  leading  them,  as  it  were,  by  the  hand, 
through  all  the  forms  and  classes,  all  the  varieties  and  modes 
of  villainy,  till  at  length  they  make  them  ten  times  more  the 
children  of  the  devil  than  of  themselves.  Now,  I  say,  if  the 
unparalleled  wickedness  of  the  age  should  at  any  time  cast  us 
upon  such  blemishes  of  mankind  as  these,  who,  while  they 
thus  treat  their  children,  should  abuse  and  usurp  the  name 


352  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  XVIL 

of  parents,  by  assuming  it  to  themselves  ;  let  us  not  call  them 
by  the  low,  diminutive  term  or  title  of  sinful,  wicked,  or  un 
godly  men,  but  let  us  look  upon  them  as  so  many  prodigious 
exceptions  from  our  common  nature,  as  so  many  portentous 
animals,  like  the  strange  unnatural  productions  of  Africa, 
and  fit  to  be  publicly  shown,  were  they  not  unfit  to  be  seen : 
for  certainly  where  a  child  finds  his  own  parents  his  pervert- 
ers,  he  can  not  be  so  properly  said  to  be  born,  as  to  be 
damned  into  the  world ;  and  better  were  it  for  him  by  far  to 
have  been  unborn,  and  unbegot,  than  to  come  to  ask  blessing 
of  those  whose  conversation  breathes  nothing  but  contagion 
and  a  curse.  So  impossible,  and  so  much  a  paradox  is  it, 
for  any  parent  to  impart  to  his  child  his  blessing  and  his  vice 
too. 

And  thus  I  have  dispatched  the  first  general  thing  pro 
posed  for  the  handling  of  the  words,  and  shown  in  five  several 
particulars,  what  it  is  that  brings  a  man  to  such  a  disposition 
of  mind  as  to  take  pleasure  in  other  men's  sins.  I  proceed 
now  to  the 

Second,  which  is,  To  show  the  reasons  why  a  man's  being 
disposed  to  do  so,  comes  to  be  attended  with  such  an  extraor 
dinary  guilt.  And  the  first  shall  be  taken  from  this,  that 
naturally  there  is  no  motive  to  induce  or  tempt  a  man  to  this 
way  of  sinning.  And  this  is  a  most  certain  truth,  that  the 
lesser  the  temptation  is,  the  greater  is  the  sin.  For  in  every 
sin,  by  how  much  the  more  free  the  will  is  in  its  choice,  by 
so  much  is  the  act  the  more  sinful.  And  where  there  is 
nothing  to  importune,  urge,  or  provoke  it  to  any  act,  there 
is  so  much  an  higher  and  perfecter  degree  of  freedom  about 
that  act.  For  albeit  the  will  is  not  capable  of  being  com 
pelled  to  any  of  its  actings,  yet  it  is  capable  of  being  made 
to  act  with  more,  or  less  difficulty,  according  to  the  different 
impressions  it  receives  from  motives  or  objects.  If  the  ob 
ject  be  extremely  pleasing,  and  apt  to  gratify  it,  there, 
though  the  will  has  still  a  power  of  refusing  it,  yet  it  is  not 
without  some  difficulty :  upon  which  account  it  is  that  men 
are  so  strongly  carried  out  to,  and  so  hardly  took  off  from, 
the  practice  of  vice ;  namely,  because  the  sensual  pleasure 
arising  from  it  is  still  importuning  and  drawing  them  to  it. 

But  now,  from  whence  springs  this  pleasure?    Is  it  not 


ROM.  i.  32.]       taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  353 

from  the  gratification  of  some  desire  founded  in  nature  ?  An 
irregular  gratification  it  is  indeed  very  often ;  yet  still  the 
foundation  of  it  is,  and  must  be,  something  natural :  so  that 
the  sum  of  all  is  this,  that  the  naturalness  of  a  desire  is  the 
cause  that  the  satisfaction  of  it  is  pleasure,  and  pleasure  im 
portunes  the  will ;  and  that  which  importunes  the  will,  puts 
a  difficulty  in  the  will's  refusing  or  forbearing  it.  Thus 
drunkenness  is  an  irregular  satisfaction  of  the  appetite  of 
thirst ;  uucleanness  an  unlawful  gratification  of  the  appetite 
of  procreation ;  and  covetousness  a  boundless,  unreasonable 
pursuit  of  the  principle  of  self-preservation.  So  that  all 
these  are  founded  in  some  natural  desire,  and  are  therefore 
pleasurable,  and  upon  that  account  tempt,  solicit,  and  entice 
the  will.  In  a  word,  there  is  hardly  any  one  vice  or  sin  of 
direct  and  personal  commission,  but  what  is  the  irregularity 
and  abuse  of  one  of  those  two  grand  natural  principles  ; 
namely,  either  that  which  inclines  a  man  to  preserve  himself, 
or  that  which  inclines  him  to  please  himself. 

But  now,  what  principle,  faculty,  or  desire,  by  which  nature 
projects  either  its  own  pleasure  or  preservation,  is  or  can 
be  gratified  by  another  man's  personal  pursuit  of  his  own 
vice  ?  It  is  evident  that  all  the  pleasure  that  naturally  can 
be  received  from  a  vicious  action  can  immediately  and  per 
sonally  affect  none  but  him  who  does  it ;  for  it  is  an  applica 
tion  of  the  pleasing  object  only  to  his  own  sense ;  and  no 
man  feels  by  another  man's  senses.  And  therefore  the  de 
light  that  a  man  takes  from  another's  sin  can  be  nothing 
else  but  a  fantastical,  preternatural  complacency  arising  from 
that  which  he  has  really  no  sense  or  feeling  of.  It  is  prop 
erly  a  love  of  vice,  as  such ;  a  delighting  in  sin  for  its  own 
sake ;  and  is  a  direct  imitation,  or  rather  an  exemplification 
of  the  malice  of  the  devil ;  who  delights  in  seeing  those  sins 
committed  which  the  very  condition  of  his  nature  renders 
him  incapable  of  committing  himself.  For  the  devil  can 
neither  drink,  nor  whore,  nor  play  the  epicure,  though  he 
enjoys  the  pleasures  of  all  these  at  a  second  hand,  and  by 
malicious  approbation.  If  a  man  plays  the  thief,  says  Solo 
mon,  and  steals  to  satisfy  his  hunger,  Prov.  vi.  30,  though  it 
can  not  wholly  excuse  the  fact,  yet  it  sometimes  extenuates 
the  guilt.  And  we  know  there  are  some  corrupt  affections  in 

VOL.  i.  23 


854  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  xvn. 

the  soul  of  man,  that  urge  and  push  him  on  to  their  satisfac 
tion  with  such  an  impetuous  fury,  that  when  we  see  a  man 
overborne  and  run  down  by  them,  considering-  the  frailty  of 
human  nature,  we  can  not  but  pity  the  person,  while  we 
abhor  the  crime.  It  being  like  one  ready  to  drink  poison, 
rather  than  to  die  with  thirst. 

But  when  a  man  shall,  with  a  sober,  sedate,  diabolical  ran 
cor,  look  upon  and  enjoy  himself  in  the  sight  of  his  neigh 
bor's  sin  and  shame,  and  secretly  hug  himself  upon  the  ruins 
of  his  brother's  virtue,  and  the  dishonors  of  his  reason,  can 
he  plead  the  instigation  of  any  appetite  in  nature  inclining 
him  to  this ;  and  that  would  otherwise  render  him  uneasy  to 
himself,  should  he  not  thus  triumph  in  another's  folly  and 
confusion  ?  No,  certainly ;  this  can  not  be  so  much  as  pre 
tended.  For  he  may  as  well  carry  his  eyes  in  another  man's 
head,  and  run  races  with  another  man's  feet,  as  directly  and 
naturally  taste  the  pleasures  that  spring  from  the  gratification 
of  another  man's  appetites. 

Nor  can  that  person,  whosoever  he  is,  who  accounts  it  his 
recreation  and  diversion  to  see  one  man  wallowing  in  his 
filthy  revels,  and  another  made  infamous  and  noisome  by  his 
sensuality,  be  so  impudent  as  to  allege  for  a  reason  of  his  so 
doing,  that  either  all  the  enormous  draughts  of  the  one  do 
or  can  leave  the  least  relish  upon  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  or 
that  all  the  fornications  and  whoredoms  of  the  other  do  or 
can  quench  or  cool  the  boilings  of  his  own  lust.  No,  this  is 
impossible.  And  if  so,  what  can  we  then  assign  for  the  cause 
of  this  monstrous  disposition  ?  Why,  all  that  can  be  said  in 
this  case  is,  that  nature  proceeds  by  quite  another  method ; 
having  given  men  such  and  such  appetites,  and  allotted  to 
each  of  them  their  respective  pleasures ;  the  appetite  and  the 
pleasure  still  cohabiting  in  the  same  subject :  but  the  devil 
and  long  custom  of  sinning  have  superinduced  upon  the  soul 
new,  unnatural,  and  absurd  desires ;  desires  that  have  no  real 
object;  desires  that  relish  things  not  at  all  desirable;  but, 
like  the  sickness  and  distemper  of  the  soul,  feeding  only  upon 
filth  and  corruption,  fire  and  brimstone,  and  giving  a  man 
the  devil's  nature  and  the  devil's  delight ;  who  has  no  other 
joy  or  happiness  but  to  dishonor  his  Maker,  and  to  destroy 
his  fellow-creature ;  to  corrupt  him  here,  and  to  torment  him 


ROM.  i.  32.]       taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  355 

hereafter.  In  fine,  there  is  as  much  difference  between  the 
pleasure  a  man  takes  in  his  own  sins,  and  that  which  he  takes 
in  other  men's,  as  there  is  between  the  wickedness  of  a  man 
and  the  wickedness  of  a  devil. 

2.  A  second  reason  why  a  man's  taking1  pleasure  in  the  sins 
of  others  comes  to  be  attended  with  such  an  extraordinary 
guilt,  is,  from  the  boundless,  unlimited  nature  of  this  way  of 
sinning.  For  by  this  a  man  contracts  a  kind  of  an  universal 
guilt,  and,  as  it  were,  sins  over  the  sins  of  all  other  men ; 
so  that  while  the  act  is  theirs,  the  guilt  of  it  is  equally  his. 
Consider  any  man  as  to  his  personal  powers  and  opportunities 
of  sinning,  and  comparatively  they  are  not  great ;  for  at 
greatest  they  must  still  be  limited  by  the  measure  of  a  man's 
acting,  and  the  term  of  his  duration.  And  a  man's  active 
powers  are  but  weak,  and  his  continuance  in  the  world  but 
short.  So  that  nature  is  not  sufficient  to  keep  pace  with  his 
corruptions,  by  answering  desire  with  proportionable  practice. 

For  to  instance  in  those  two  grand  extravagances  of  lust 
and  drunkenness  :  surely  no  man  is  of  so  general  and  diffu 
sive  a  lust  as  to  prosecute  his  amours  all  the  world  over ;  and 
let  it  burn  never  so  outrageously  for  the  present,  yet  age  will 
in  time  chill  those  heats ;  and  the  impure  flanie  will  either 
die  of  itself,  or  consume  the  body  that  harbors  it.  And  so 
for  intemperance  in  drinking;  no  man  can  be  so  much  a 
swine  as  to  be  always  pouring  in,  but  in  the  compass  of  some 
years  he  will  drown  his  health  and  his  strength  in  his  own 
belly;  and  after  all  his  drunken  trophies,  at  length  drink 
down  himself  too ;  and  that  certainly  will  and  must  put  an 
end  to  the  debauch. 

But  now,  for  the  way  of  sinning  which  we  have  been  speak 
ing  of,  it  is  neither  confined  by  place,  nor  weakened  by  age ; 
but  the  bed-rid,  the  gouty,  and  the  lethargic  may,  upon  this 
account,  equal  the  activity  of  the  strongest  and  the  most 
vegete  sinner.  Such  an  one  may  take  his  brother  by  the 
throat,  and  act  the  murderer,  even  while  he  can  neither  stir 
a  hand  nor  a  foot ;  and  he  may  invade  his  neighbor's  bed, 
while  weakness  has  tied  him  down  to  his  own.  He  may  sin 
over  all  the  adulteries  and  debauches,  all  the  frauds  and  op 
pressions  of  the  whole  neighborhood,  and,  as  I  may  so  speak, 
he  may  break  every  command  of  God's  law  by  proxy,  and  it 


356  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  xvn. 

were  well  for  him  if  he  could  be  damned  by  proxy  too.  A 
man,  by  delight  and  fancy,  may  grasp  in  the  sins  of  all  coun 
tries  and  ages,  and  by  an  inward  liking  of  them  communicate 
in  their  guilt.  He  may  take  a  range  all  the  world  over,  and 
draw  in  all  that  wide  circumference  of  sin  and  vice,  and  cen 
tre  it  in  his  own  breast.  For  whatsoever  sin  a  man  extremely 
loves,  and  would  commit  if  he  had  opportunity,  and,  in  the 
mean  time,  pleases  himself  with  the  speculation  of  the  same, 
whether  ever  he  commits  it  or  no,  it  leaves  a  stain  and  a  guilt 
upon  his  conscience ;  and,  according  to  the  spiritual  and  se 
vere  accounts  of  the  law,  is  made,  in  a  great  respect,  his  own. 
So  that  by  this  means  there  is  a  kind  of  transmigration  of 
sins,  much  like  that  which  Pythagoras  held  of  souls.  Such 
an  one  to  be  sure  it  is,  as  makes  a  man  not  only  (according 
to  the  apostle's  phrase)  a  partaker  of  other  men's  sins,  but  also 
a  deriver  of  the  whole  entire  guilt  of  them  to  himself ;  and 
yet  so  as  to  leave  the  committer  of  them  as  full  of  guilt  as 
he  was  before. 

From  whence  we  see  the  infinitely  fruitful  and  productive 
power  of  this  way  of  sinning ;  how  it  can  increase  and  mul 
tiply  beyond  all  bounds  and  measures  of  actual  commission, 
and  how  vastly  it  swells  the  sinner's  account  in  an  instant. 
So  that  a  man  shall,  out  of  all  the  various  and  even  number 
less  kinds  of  villainy,  acted  by  all  the  people  and  nations 
round  about  him,  as  it  were,  extract  one  mighty,  comprehen- 
sive  guilt,  and  adopt  it  to  himself;  and  so  become  chargeable 
with,  and  accountable  for,  a  world  of  sin  without  a  figure. 

3.  The  third  and  last  reason  that  I  shall  assign  of  the 
extraordinary  guilt  attending  a  man's  being  disposed  to  take 
pleasure  in  other  men's  sins,  shall  be  taken  from  the  soul's 
preparation  and  passage  to  such  a  disposition.  For  that  it 
presupposes  and  includes  in  it  the  guilt  of  many  preceding 
sins.  For,  as  it  has  been  shown,  a  man  must  have  passed  many 
periods  of  sin  before  he  can  arrive  to  it,  and  have  served  a 
long  apprenticeship  to  the  devil  before  he  can  come  to  such 
a  perfection  and  maturity  in  vice  as  this  imports.  It  is  a 
collection  of  the  guilt  of  a  long  and  numerous  train  of  vil 
lainies,  the  compendium  and  sum  total  of  several  particular 
impieties,  all  united  and  cast  up  into  one.  It  is,  as  it  were, 
the  very  quintessence  and  sublimation  of  vice,  by  which,  as 


ROM.  i.  32.]       taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  357 

in  the  spirit  of  liquors,  the  malignity  of  many  actions  is  con 
tracted  into  a  little  compass,  but  with  a  greater  advantage  of 
strength  and  force,  by  such  a  contraction. 

In  a  word,  it  is  the  wickedness  of  a  whole  life  discharging 
all  its  filth  and  foulness  into  this  one  quality,  as  into  a  great 
sink  or  common  shore.  So  that  nothing  is  or  can  be  so  prop 
erly  and  significantly  called  the  very  sinfulness  of  sin,  as  this. 
And  therefore  no  wonder  if,  containing  so  many  years'  guilt 
in  the  bowels  of  it,  it  stands  here  stigmatized  by  the  apostle 
as  a  temper  of  mind  rendering  men  so  detestably  bad,  that 
the  great  enemy  of  mankind,  the  devil  himself,  neither  can 
nor  desires  to  make  them  worse.  I  can  not,  I  need  not  say 
any  more  of  it.  It  is  indeed  a  condition  not  to  be  thought 
of  (by  persons  serious  enough  to  think  and  consider)  without 
the  utmost  horror.  But  such  as  truly  fear  God  shall  both  be 
kept  from  it  and  from  those  sins  that  lead  to  it. 

To  which  God,  infinitely  wise,  holy,  and  just,  be  rendered  and 
ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise,  might,  majesty,  and  do 
minion,  both  now  and  for  evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  XVIII. 


THE   SECOND   SERMON  PREACHED  UPON  ROMANS  I.   32. 


Who  knowing  the  judgment  of  God,  that  they  which  commit  such  things  are  worthy  of 
death,  not  only  do  the  same,  but  have  pleasure  in  them  that  do  them. 

rjlHE  sense  of  these  words  I  show,  in  the  preceding  dis- 
-•-  course,  fell  naturally  into  this  one  proposition :  viz. 

That  the  guilt  arising  from  a  man's  delighting  or  taking 
pleasure  in  other  men's  sins,  or  (which  is  all  one)  in  other 
men  for  their  sins,  is  greater  than  he  can  possibly  contract  by 
a  commission  of  the  same  sins  in  his  own  person. 

The  prosecution  of  which  I  stated  upon  these  three  things  : 

First,  To  show  what  it  is  that  brings  a  man  to  such  a  dis 
position  of  mind  as  to  take  pleasure  in  other  men's  sins. 

Secondly,  To  show  the  reasons  why  a  man's  being  disposed 
to  do  so  comes  to  be  attended  with  such  an  extraordinary 
guilt. 

Thirdly  and  lastly,  To  declare  what  kind  of  persons  are  to 
be  reckoned  under  this  character. 

The  two  first  of  which  being  dispatched  already,  I  proceed 
now  to  the  third  and  last.  Concerning  which  I  shall  lay 
down  this  general  assertion ;  That  whosoever  draws  others  to 
sin  ought  to  be  looked  upon  as  one  delighting  in  those  sins 
that  he  draws  them  to.  Forasmuch  as  no  man  is  brought  to 
do  any  thing,  especially  if  it  be  ill  or  wicked,  but  in  order 
to  the  pleasing  of  himself  by  it :  it  being  absurd  and  incred 
ible  that  any  one  should  venture  to  damn  himself  hereafter 
for  that  which  does  not  some  way  or  other  gratify  and  please 
him  here.  But  to  draw  forth  this  general  into  particulars. 

1.  First  of  all:  Those  are  to  be  accounted  to  take  pleasure 
in  other  men's  sins  who  teach  doctrines  directly  tending  to 


ROM.  i.  32.]     Of  taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  359 

engage  such  as  believe  them  in  a  sinful  course.  For  there  is 
none  so  compendious  and  efficacious  a  way  to  prepare  a  man 
for  all  sin  as  this  :  this  being  properly  to  put  out  the  eyes  of 
that  which  is  to  be  his  guide,  by  perverting  his  judgment ; 
and  when  that  is  once  done,  you  may  carry  him  whither  you 
will.  Chance  must  be  his  rule,  and  present  appetite  his  di 
rector.  A  man's  judgment  or  conscience  is  the  great  spring 
of  all  his  actions  ;  and  consequently  to  corrupt  or  pervert  this 
is  to  derive  a  contagion  upon  all  that  he  does.  And  there 
fore  we  see  how  high  a  guilt  our  Saviour  charges  upon  this 
in  Matt.  v.  19 ;  Whosoever  shall  break  one  of  these  least  com 
mandments,  and  shall  teach  men  so,  shall  be  called  the  least  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  :  that  is,  in  truth  shall  never  come  thither. 
And  we  find  the  great  sin  of  the  Pharisees  was,  that  they 
promoted  and  abetted  the  sins  of  other  men,  taught  the 
devil's  doctrine  out  of  Moses's  chair,  and  by  false  descants 
upon  the  divine  precepts  cut  asunder  the  binding  force  of 
them :  so  that,  according  to  their  wretched  comments,  men 
might  break  the  law,  and  yet  never  sin  against  it.  For  in 
Matt.  xv.  5,  6,  they  had  taught  men  how  to  dishonor  their 
parents,  without  any  violation  of  the  fifth  commandment. 
Thus  they  preached  :  and  what  design  can  any  one  imagine 
the  authors  of  such  doctrines  could  have,  but  the  depravation 
of  men's  manners  !  For,  if  some  men  teach  wicked  things, 
it  must  be  that  others  should  practice  them.  And  if  one  man 
sets  another  a  copy,  it  is  no  doubt  with  a  purpose  that  he 
should  write  after  it. 

Now  these  doctrines  are  of  two  sorts  : 

1.  Such  as  represent  actions  that  are  in  themselves  really 
wicked  and  sinful,  as  not  so. 

2.  Such  as  represent  them  much  less  sinful  as  to  their  kind 
or  degrees  than  indeed  they  are. 

For  the  first  of  which ;  to  instance  in  one  very  gross  one, 
instead  of  many,  take  the  doctrine  of  those  commonly  called 
Antmomians,  who  assert  positively  that  believers,  or  persons 
regenerate,  and  within  the  covenant  of  grace,  can  not  sin. 
Upon  which  account,  no  wonder  if  some  very  liberally  assume 
to  themselves  the  condition  and  character  of  believers  ;  for 
then  they  know  that  other  mighty  privilege  belongs  to  them 
of  course.  But  what?  may  not  these  believers  cheat  and 


360  .       Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SEKM.  xvin. 

lie,  commit  adultery,  steal,  murder,  and  rebel  ?     Why,  yes ; 
they  may,  and  nothing  is  more  common  than  to  see  such  be 
lievers  do  such  things.     But  how  then  can  they  escape  the 
charge  of  all  that   guilt  that   naturally  follows  from   such 
enormities  ?    Why,  thus ;  you  must  in  this  case  with  great 
care  and  accuracy  distinguish  between  the  act  of  lying  and 
the  sin  of  lying,  the  act  of  stealing  and  the  sin  of  stealing, 
and  the  act  of  rebellion   and  the   sin   of  rebellion.     Now, 
though  all  these  acts  are  frequent  and  usual  with  such  per 
sons,  yet  they  are  sure  (as  they  order  the  matter)  never  to 
be  guilty  of  the  sin.     And  the  reason  is,  because  it  is  not  the 
quality  of  the  action  that   derives  a  qualification   upon  the 
person,  so  as  to  render  him  such  or  such,  good  or  bad ;  but  it 
is  the  antecedent  quality  or  condition  of  the  person  that  de 
nominates   his  actions,  and  stamps  them   good  or  evil.     So 
that  they  are  those  only  who  are  first  wicked,  that  do  wicked 
actions.     But  believers,  and  the  godly,  though  they  do  the 
very  same  things,  yet  they  so  much  outwit  the  devil  in  the 
doing  of  them,  that  they  never  commit  the  same  sins.     But 
you  will  say,  how  came  they  by  such  a  great  and   strange 
privilege  ?     Why,  they  will  tell  you,  it  is  because  they  are  not 
under  the  obliging  power  of  the  law.     And  if  you  ask  fur 
ther,  how  they  come  to  get  from  under  that  common  obliga 
tion  that  lies  so   hard   and   heavy  upon   all  the  rest  of  the 
world ;  they  will  tell  you,  it  is  from  this,  that  believers,  in 
stead  of  the  law,  have  the  Spirit  actually  dwelling  in  them, 
and  by  an  admirable  kind  of  invisible   clock-work   moving 
them,  just  as  a  spring  does  a  watch ;  and  that  immediately 
by  himself  alone,  without  the  meditation  of  any  written  law 
or  rule  to  guide,  or  direct,  and  much  less  to   command  or 
oblige  them.     So  that  the  Spirit,  we  see,  is  to  be  their  sole 
director,  without,  and  very  often  contrary  to,  the  written  law. 
An  excellent  contrivance,  doubtless,  to  authorize  and  sanctify 
the  blackest  and  most  flagitious  actions  that  can  proceed  from 
man.     For  since  the  motions  of  the  Spirit  (which  they  so 
confidently  suppose  themselves  to  have)  can  not  so  much  as 
in  things  good  and  lawful,  by  any  certain  diagnostic,  be  dis 
tinguished  from  the  motions  of  a  man's  own  heart,  they  very 
easily  make  a  step  further,  and  even  in  things  unlawful  con 
clude  the  motions  of  their  own  hearts  to  be  the  impulse  of 


ROM.  i.  32.]        taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  361 

the  Spirit ;  and  this  presently  alters  the  whole  complexion  of 
an  action  that  would  otherwise  look  but  very  scurvily ;  and 
makes  it  absolutely  pure  and  unblamable,  or  rather  perfect 
and  meritorious.  So  that  let  a  man  have  but  impudence  and 
wickedness  enough  to  libel  his  Maker,  and  to  entitle  the 
Spirit  of  God  to  all  that  he  does  or  desires,  surnaming  his 
own  inclinations  and  appetites  (though  never  so  irregular 
and  impure)  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  you  may,  upon  very  sure 
grounds,  turn  him  loose,  and  bid  him  sin  if  he  can.  And 
thus  much  for  the  first  sort  of  doctrines,  which  once  believed, 
like  the  floodgates  of  hell  pulled  up,  lets  in  a  deluge  and 
inundation  of  all  sin  and  vice  upon  the  lives  of  men.  And 
if  this  be  the  natural  effect  of  the  doctrines  themselves,  we 
can  not  in  all  reason  but  infer,  that  the  interest  of  the  teach 
ers  of  them  must  needs  be  agreeable. 

2.  The  other  sort  of  doctrines  tending  to  engage  such  as 
believe  them  in  a  sinful  course,  are  such  as  represent  ij;any 
sins  much  less,  as  to  their  kind  or  degree,  than  indeed  they 
are.  Of  which  number  is  that  doctrine,  that  asserts  all  sins 
committed  by  believers,  or  persons  in  a  state  of  grace,  to  be 
but  infirmities.  That  there  are  such  things  as  sins  of  infirm 
ity,  in  contradistinction  to  those  of  presumption,  is  a  truth  not 
to  be  questioned ;  but  in  hypothesi,  to  state  exactly  which  are 
sins  of  infirmity,  and  which  are  not,  is  not  so  easy  a  work. 
This  is  certain,  that  there  is  a  vast  difference  between  them ; 
indeed,  as  vast  as  between  inadvertency  and  deliberation, 
between  surprise  and  set  purpose  :  and  that  persons  truly 
regenerate  have  sinned  this  latter  way,  and  consequently 
may  sin  so  again,  is  as  evident  as  the  story  (already  referred 
to  by  us)  of  David's  murder  and  adultery  :  sins  acted  not  only 
with  deliberation,  but  with  artifice,  study,  and  deep  contriv 
ance.  And  can  sins,  that  carry  such  dismal  marks  and  black 
symptoms  upon  them,  pass  for  infirmities  ?  for  sins  of  daily 
incursion,  and  such  as  human  frailty,  and  the  very  condition 
of  our  nature  in  this  world,  is  so  unavoidably  liable  to,  (for  so 
are  sins  of  infirmity,)  that  a  righteous  man  may  full  into  them 
seven  times  in  a  day ;  and  yet,  according  to  the  merciful  tenor 
of  the  covenant  of  grace,  stand  accepted  before  God  as  a 
righteous  man  still?  No,  certainly,  if  such  are  infirmities, 
it  will  be  hard  to  assign  what  are  presumptions.  And  what  a 


362  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  xvm. 

sin-encouraging  doctrine  that  is,  that  avouches  them  for  such, 
is  sufficiently  manifest  from  hence ;  that  although  every  sin 
of  infirmity,  in  its  own  nature  and  according  to  the  strict 
rigor  of  the  law,  merits  eternal  death,  yet  it  is  certain  from 
the  gospel,  that  no  man  shall  actually  suffer  eternal  death 
barely  for  sins  of  infirmity :  which  being  so,  persuade  but  a 
man  that  a  regenerate  person  may  cheat  and  lie,  steal,  mur 
der,  and  rebel,  by  way  of  infirmity,  and  at  the  same  time  you 
persuade  him  also  that  he  may  do  all  this  without  any  danger 
of  damnation.  And  then,  since  these  are  oftentimes  such 
desirable  privileges  to  flesh  and  blood ;  and  since  withal,  every 
man  by  nature  is  so  very  prone  to  think  the  best  of  himself 
and  of  his  own  condition  ;  it  is  odds  but  he  will  find  a  shrewd 
temptation  to  believe  himself  regenerate,  rather  than  forbear 
a  pleasurable  or  profitable  sin,  by  thinking  that  he  shall  go  to 
hell  for  committing  it.  Now  this  being  such  a  direct  manu- 
duction  to  all  kind  of  sin,  by  abusing  the  conscience  with 
undervaluing  persuasions  concerning  the  malignity  and  guilt 
even  of  the  foulest,  it  is  evident  that  such  as  teach  and 
promote  the  belief  of  such  doctrines  are  to  be  looked  upon 
as  the  devil's  prophets  and  apostles ;  and  there  is  no  doubt 
but  the  guilt  of  every  sin,  that  either  from  pulpit  or  from 
press  they  influence  men  to  the  commission  of,  does  as  cer 
tainly  rest  upon  them,  and  will  one  day  be  as  severely  exacted 
of  them,  as  if  they  had  actually  and  personally  committed  it 
themselves. 

And  thus  I  have  instanced  in  two  notable  doctrines,  that 
may  justly  be  looked  upon  as  the  general  inlets,  or  two  great 
gates,  through  which  all  vice  and  villainy  rush  in  upon  the 
manners  of  men  professing  religion.  But  the  particulars 
into  which  these  generals  diffuse  themselves,  you  may  look 
for  and  find  in  those  well-furnished  magazines  and  store 
houses  of  all  immorality  and  baseness,  the  books  and  writings 
of  some  modern  casuists ;  who,  like  the  devil's  amanuenses, 
and  secretaries  to  the  prince  of  darkness,  have  published  to 
the  world  such  notions  and  intrigues  of  sin  out  of  his  cabinet, 
as  neither  the  wit  or  wickedness  of  man,  upon  the  bare  nat 
ural  stock  either  of  invention  or  corruption,  could  ever  have 
found  out. 

The  writings  both  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament  make  it 


ROM.  i.  32.]        taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  363 

very  difficult  for  a  man  to  be  saved ;  but  the  writings  of  these 
men  make  it  more  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  for  any  one  to 
be  damned  :  for  where  there  is  no  sin,  there  can  be  no  dam 
nation.  And  as  these  men  have  obscured  and  confounded  the 
natures  and  properties  of  things  by  their  false  principles  and 
wretched  sophistry,  though  an  act  be  never  so  sinful,  they  will 
be  sure  to  strip  it  of  its  guilt ;  and  to  make  the  very  law  and 
rule  of  action  so  pliable  and  bending,  that  it  shall  be  impos 
sible  to  be  broke.  So  that  he  who  goes  to  hell  must  pass 
through  a  narrower  gate  than  that  which  the  gospel  says 
leads  to  heaven.  For  that,  we  are  told,  is  only  strait,  but  this 
is  absolutely  shut ;  and  so  shut  that  sin  can  not  pass  it,  and 
therefore  it  is  much  if  a  sinner  should. 

So  insufferably  have  these  impostors  poisoned  the  fountains 
of  morality,  perverted  and  embased  the  very  standard  and 
distinguishing  rule  of  good  and  evil.  So  that  all  their  books 
and  writings  are  but  debauchery  upon  record,  and  impiety 
registered  and  consigned  over  to  posterity. 

In  every  volume  there  is  a  nursery  and  plantation  of  vice, 
where  it  is  sure  to  thrive,  and  from  thence  to  be  transplanted 
into  men's  practice.  For  here  it  is  manured  with  art  and 
argument,  sheltered  with  fallacy  and  distinction,  and  thereby 
enabled  both  to  annoy  others  and  to  defend  itself. 

And  to  show  how  far  the  malignity  of  this  way  of  sinning 
reaches,  he  who  has  vented  a  pernicious  doctrine,  or  pub 
lished  an  ill  book,  must  know  that  his  guilt  and  his  life  deter 
mine  not  together :  no,  such  an  one,  as  the  apostle  says,  leing 
dead,  yet  speakeih  ;  he  sins  in  his  very  grave,  corrupts  others 
while  he  is  rotting  himself,  and  has  a  growing  account  in  the 
other  world  after  he  has  paid  nature's  last  debt  in  this ;  and, 
in  a  word,  quits  this  life  like  a  man  carried  off  by  the  plague, 
who,  though  he  dies  himself,  yet  does  execution  upon  others 
by  a  surviving  infection. 

2.  Such  also  are  to  be  reckoned  to  take  pleasure  in  other 
men's  sins,  as  endeavor  by  all  means  to  allure  men  to  sin ; 
and  that  either  by  formal  persuasion,  importunity,  or  desire, 
as  we  find  the  harlot  described,  enticing  the  young  man,  in 
Prov.  vii.  from  ver.  13  to  22  ;  or  else  by  administering  objects 
and  occasions  fit  to  inflame  and  draw  forth  a  man's  corrupt 
affections  ;  such  as  are  the  drinking  of  a  choleric  or  revenge- 


364  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  xvm. 

ful  person  into  a  fit  of  rage  and  violence  against  the  person 
of  his  neighbor ;  thus  heating  one  man's  blood,  in  order  to 
the  shedding  of  another's.  Such  also  as  the  provoking  of  a 
lustful,  incontinent  person,  by  filthy  discourse,  wanton  books 
and  pictures,  and,  that  which  equals  and  exceeds  them  all, 
the  incentives  of  the  stage ;  till  a  man's  vice  and  folly  works 
over  all  bounds,  and  grows  at  length  too  mad  and  outrageous 
to  be  either  governed  or  concealed. 

Now,  with  great  variety  of  such  kind  of  traders  for  hell  as 
these  has  the  nation  of  late  years  abounded.  Wretches  who 
live  upon  the  shark,  and  other  men's  sins,  the  common  poi 
soners  of  youth,  equally  desperate  in  their  fortunes  and  their 
manners,  and  getting  their  very  bread  by  the  damnation  of 
souls.  So  that  if  any  inexperienced  young  novice  happens 
into  the  fatal  neighborhood  of  such  pests,  presently  they  are 
upon  him,  plying  his  full  purse  and  his  empty  pate  with  ad 
dresses  suitable  to  his  vanity ;  telling  him,  what  pity  it  is 
that  one  so  accomplished  for  parts  and  person  should  smother 
himself  in  the  country,  where  he  can  learn  nothing  of  gal 
lantry  or  behavior ;  as,  how  to  make  his  court,  to  hector  a 
drawer,  to  cog  the  die,  or  storm  a  whorehouse ;  but  must  of 
necessity  live  and  die  ignorant  of  what  it  is  to  trepan  or  be 
trepanned,  to  sup  or  rather  dine  at  midnight  in  a  tavern,  with 
the  noise  of  oaths,  blasphemies,  and  fiddlers  about  his  ears, 
and  to  fight  every  watch  and  constable  at  his  return  from 
thence,  and  to  be  beaten  by  them :  but  must  at  length,  poor 
man  !  die  dully  of  old  age  at  home  ;  when  here  he  might  so 
fashionably  and  genteelly,  long  before  that  time,  have  been 
duelled  or  fluxed  into  another  world. 

If  this  be  not  the  guise  and  practice  of  the  times,  especially 
as  to  the  principal  cities  of  the  kingdom,  let  any  one  judge  ; 
and  whether  for  such  a  poor  deluded  wretch,  instead  of  grow 
ing  rusty  in  the  country,  (as  some  call  it,)  to  be  thus  brought 
by  a  company  of  indigent,  debauched,  soul-and-body-destroy- 
ing  harpies,  to  lose  his  estate,  family,  and  virtue,  amongst 
them  in  the  city,  be  not  a  much  greater  violation  of  the  pub 
lic  weal  and  justice  of  any  government,  than  most  of  those 
crimes  that  bring  the  committers  of  them  to  the  gallows,  we 
may  at  present  easily  see,  and  one  day  perhaps  sadly  feel. 

Nor  is  this  trade  of  corrupting  the  gentry  and  nobility,  and 


ROM.  i.  32.]        taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  365 

seasoning  them  with  the  vices  of  the  great  town,  as  soon  as 
they  set  foot  into  it,  carried  on  secretly,  and  in  a  corner,  but 
openly,  and  in  the  face  of  the  sun ;  by  persons  who  have 
formed  themselves  into  companies,  or  rather  corporations. 
So  that  a  man  may  as  easily  know  where  to  find  one  to  teach 
him  to  debauch,  whore,  game,  and  blaspheme,  as  to  teach 
him  to  write  or  cast  accompt :  it  is  their  support  and  busi 
ness  ;  nay,  their  very  profession  and  livelihood ;  getting  their 
living  by  those  practices,  for  which  they  deserve  to  forfeit 
their  lives. 

Now  these  are  another  sort  of  men,  who  are  justly  charged 
with  the  guilt  and  character  of  delighting  in  other  men's 
sins  :  men,  who  are  the  devil's  setters  ;  who  contrive,  study, 
and  beat  their  brains  how  to  draw  in  some  poor,  innocent, 
unguarded  heir  into  their  hellish  net,  learning  his  humor, 
prying  into  his  circumstances,  and  observing  his  weak  side ; 
and  all  this  to  plant  the  snare  and  apply  the  temptation  ef 
fectually  and  successfully;  and  when  by  such  insinuations 
they  have  once  got  within  him,  and  are  able  to  drill  him  on 
from  one  lewdness  to  another,  by  the  same  arts  corrupting  and 
squeezing  him  as  they  please;  no  wonder  if  they  rejoice  to 
see  him  guilty  of  all  sorts  of  villainy,  and  take  pleasure  in 
those  sins  in  which  they  find  their  profit  too. 

3.  Such  as  affect  the  company  of  infamous  and  vicious  per 
sons  are  also  to  be  reckoned  in  the  number  of  those  who  take 
pleasure  in  such  men's  vices.  For  otherwise,  what  is  there 
in  such  men  which  they  can  pretend  to  be  pleased  with  ?  For 
generally  such  sots  have  neither  parts  nor  wit,  ingenuity  of 
discourse,  nor  fineness  of  conversation,  to  entertain  or  delight 
any  one,  that,  coming  into  their  company,  brings  but  his 
reason  along  with  him.  But,  on  the  contrary,  their  rude, 
impertinent  loudness,  their  quarrels,  their  nastiness,  their 
dull,  obscene  talk  and  ribaldry,  (which  from  them  you  must 
take  for  wit,  or  go  without  it,)  can  not  but  be  very  nauseous 
and  offensive  to  any  one  who  does  not  balk  his  own  reason, 
out  of  love  to  their  vice,  and,  for  the  sake  of  the  sin  itself, 
pardon  the  ugliness  of  its  circumstances  :  as  a  father  will  hug 
and  embrace  his  beloved  son,  for  all  the  dirt  and  foulness  of 
his  clothes  ;  the  dearness  of  the  person  easily  apologizing  for 
the  disagreeableness  of  the  habit. 


Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  XVIIT. 

One  would  think  it  should  be  no  easy  matter  to  bring  any 
man  of  sense  to  love  an  alehouse ;  indeed  of  so  much  sense, 
as  seeing  and  smelling  amounts  to ;  there  being  such  strong 
encounters  of  both  as  would  quickly  send  him  packing,  did 
not  the  love  of  good  fellowship  reconcile  him  to  these  nui 
sances,  and  the  deity  he  adored  compound  for  the  homeliness 
of  its  shrine. 

It  is  clear  therefore,  that  where  a  man  can  like  and  love 
the  conversation  of  lewd,  debauched  persons,  amidst  all  the 
natural  grounds  and  motives  of  loathing  and  dislike,  it  can 
proceed  from  nothing  but  the  inward  affection  he  bears  to 
their  lewd,  debauched  humor.  It  is  this  that  he  enjoys,  and, 
for  the  sake  of  this,  the  rest  he  endures. 

4thly  and  lastly,  Such  as  encourage,  countenance,  and  sup 
port  men  in  their  sins,  are  to  be  reckoned  in  the  number  of 
those  who  take  pleasure  in  other  men's  sins.  Now  this  may 
be  done  two  ways  : 

First,  By  commendation.  Concerning  which,  we  may  take 
this  for  granted ;  that  no  man  commends  another  any  further 
than  he  likes  him :  for  indeed  to  commend  any  one,  is  to 
vouch  him  to  the  world,  to  undertake  for  his  worth,  and,  in  a 
word,  to  own  the  thing  which  he  is  chiefly  remarkable  for. 
He  who  writes  an  encomium  Neronis,  if  he  does  it  heartily, 
is  himself  but  a  transcript  of  Nero  in  his  mind ;  and  would 
no  doubt  gladly  enough  see  such  pranks  as  he  was  famous 
for,  acted  again,  though  he  dares  not  be  the  actor  of  them 
himself. 

From  whence  we  see  the  reason  of  some  men's  giving  such 
honorable  names  and  appellations  to  the  worst  of  men  and 
actions,  and  base,  reproachful  titles  to  the  best :  such  as  are 
calling  faction,  and  a  spitting  in  their  prince's  face,  petition 
ing  ;  fanaticism  and  schism,  true  Protestantism  ;  sacrilege  and 
rapine,  thorough  reformation,  and  the  like.  As,  on  the  con 
trary,  branding  conformity  to  the  rules  and  rites  of  the  best 
church  in  the  world  with  the  false  and  odious  name  of  for 
mality  ;  and  traducing  all  religious,  conscientious  observers 
of  them,  as  mongrel  Protestants,  and  Papists  in  masquerade. 
And  indeed  many  are  and  have  been  called  Papists  of  late 
years,  whom  those  very  persons  who  call  them  so  know  to  be 
far  from  being  so.  But  what  then  do  they  mean  by  fixing 


ROM.  i.  32.]       talcing  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  367 

such  false  characters  upon  men,  even  against  their  own  con 
sciences  ?  Why,  they  mean  and  design  this  :  they  would  set 
such  a  mark  upon  those  whom  they  hate,  as  may  cause  their 
throats  to  be  cut,  and  their  estates  to  be  seized  upon,  when 
the  rabble  shall  be  let  loose  upon  the  government  once  again ; 
which  such  beggarly,  malicious  fellows  impatiently  hope  and 
long  for. 

Though  I  doubt  not  (how  much  soever  knaves  may  abuse 
fools  with  words  for  a  time)  but  there  will  come  a  day,  in 
which  the  most  active  Papists  will  be  found  under  the  Puritan 
mask ;  in  which  it  will  appear,  that  the  conventicle  has  been 
the  Jesuits'  safest  kennel,  and  the  Papists  themselves,  as  well 
as  the  fanatics,  have  been  managers  of  all  those  monstrous 
outcries  against  Popery,  to  the  ruin  of  those  Protestants 
whom  they  most  hate,  and  whom  alone  they  fear.  It  being  no 
unheard-of  trick  for  a  thief,  when  he  is  closely  pursued,  to 
cry  out,  Stop  the  thief,  and  thereby  diverting  the  suspicion 
from  himself,  to  get  clear  away.  It  is  also  worth  our  while 
to  consider  with  what  terms  of  respect  and  commendation 
knaves  and  sots  will  speak  of  their  own  fraternity.  As,  What 
an  honest,  what  a  worthy  man  is  such  an  one  !  And,  What  a 
good-natured  person  is  another  !  According  to  which  terms, 
such  as  are  factious,  by  worthy  men  mean  only  such  as  are  of 
the  same  faction,  and  united  in  the  same  designs  against  the 
government  with  themselves.  And  such  as  are  brothers  of 
the  pot,  by  a  good-natured  person  mean  only  a  true,  trusty  de 
bauchee,  who  never  stands  out  at  a  merry-meeting,  so  long  as 
he  is  able  to  stand  at  all ;  nor  ever  refuses  an  health,  while  he 
has  enough  of  his  own  to  pledge  it  with ;  and,  in  a  word,  is 
as  honest  as  drunkenness  and  debauchery,  want  of  sense  and 
reason,  virtue  and  sobriety,  can  possibly  make  him. 

2dly,  The  other  way  by  which  some  men  encourage  others 
in  their  sins  is,  by  preferment.  As,  when  men  shall  be  ad 
vanced  to  places  of  trust  and  honor  for  those  qualities  that 
render  them  unworthy  of  so  much  as  sober  and  civil  company. 
When  a  lord  or  master  shall  cast  his  favors  and  rewards  upon 
such  beasts  and  blemishes  of  society,  as  live  only  to  the  dis 
honor  of  Him  who  made  them,  and  the  reproach  of  him  who 
maintains  them.  None  certainly  can  love  to  see  vice  in  power 
but  such  as  love  to  see  it  also  in  practice.  Place  and  honor 


368  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  xvm. 

do  of  all  things  most  misbecome  it  5  and  a  goat  or  a  swine  in 
a  chair  of  state  can  not  be  more  odious  than  ridiculous. 

It  is  reported  of  Caesar,  that,  passing  through  a  certain 
town,  and  seeing  all  the  women  of  it  standing  at  their  doors 
with  monkeys  in  their  arms,  he  asked,  whether  the  women 
of  that  country  used  to  have  any  children  or  no  ?  thereby 
wittily  and  sarcastically  reproaching  them  for  misplacing  that 
affection  upon  brutes,  which  could  only  become  a  mother  to 
her  child.  So,  when  we  come  into  a  great  family  or  govern 
ment,  and  see  this  place  of  honor  allotted  to  a  murderer, 
another  filled  with  an  atheist  or  blasphemer,  and  a,  third  with 
a  filthy  parasite,  may  we  not  as  appositely  and  properly  ask 
the  question,  whether  there  be  any  such  thing  as  virtue,  so 
briety,  or  religion  amongst  such  a  people,  with  whom  vice 
wears  those  rewards,  honors,  and  privileges,  which  in  other 
nations  the  common  judgment  of  reason  awards  only  to  the 
virtuous,  the  sober,  and  religious?  And  certainly  it  is  too 
flagrant  a  demonstration,  how  much  vice  is  the  darling  of  any 
people,  when  many  amongst  them  are  preferred  for  those 
practices  for  which,  in  other  places,  they  can  scarce  be  par 
doned. 

And  thus  I  have  finished  the  third  and  last  general  thing 
proposed,  for  the  handling  of  the  words,  which  was,  to  show 
the  several  sorts  or  kinds  of  men  which  fall  under  the  charge 
and  character  of  taking  pleasure  in  other  men's  sins. 

Now  the  inferences  from  the  foregoing  particulars  shall  be 
twofold : 

1.  Such  as  concern  particular  persons  ;  and, 

2.  Such  as  concern  communities,  or  bodies  of  men. 
And  first  for  the  malignity  of  such  a  disposition  of  mind 

as  induces  a  man  to  delight  in  other  men's  sins,  with  refer 
ence  to  the  effects  of  it  upon  particular  persons.  As, 

1.  It  quite  alters  and  depraves  the  natural  frame  of  a  man's 
heart :  for  there  is  that  naturally  in  the  heart  of  man,  which 
abhors  sin,  as  sin ;  and  consequently  would  make  him  detest 
it,  both  in  himself  and  in  others  too.  The  first  and  most 
genuine  principles  of  reason  are  certainly  averse  to  it,  and 
find  a  secret  grief  and  remorse  from  every  invasion  that  sin 
makes  upon  a  man's  innocence  ;  and  that  must  needs  render 
the  first  entrance  and  admission  of  sin  uneasy,  because  dis- 


ROM.  i.  32.]        taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  369 

agreeable.  Yet  time,  we  see,  and  custom  of  sinning,  can 
bring1  a  man  to  such  a  pass,  that  it  shall  be  more  difficult 
and  grievous  to  him  to  part  with  his  sin,  than  ever  it  was  to 
him  to  admit  it.  It  shall  get  so  far  into,  and  lodge  itself  so 
deep  within,  his  heart,  that  it  shall  be  his  business  and  his 
recreation,  his  companion  and  his  other  self;  and  the  very 
dividing  between  his  flesh  and  his  bones,  or  rather,  between 
his  body  and  his  soul,  shall  be  less  terrible  and  afflictive  to 
him  than  to  be  took  off  from  his  vice. 

Nevertheless,  as  unnatural  as  this  effect  of  sin  is,  there  is 
one  yet  more  so :  for,  that  innate  principle  of  self-love,  that 
very  easily  and  often  blinds  a  man,  as  to  any  impartial  reflec 
tion  upon  himself,  yet,  for  the  most  part,  leaves  his  eyes  open 
enough  to  judge  truly  of  the  same  thing  in  his  neighbor,  and 
to  hate  that  in  others  which  he  allows  and  cherishes  in  him 
self.  And  therefore,  when  it  shall  come  to  this,  that  he 
also  approves,  embraces,  and  delights  in  sin,  as  he  observes 
it  even  in  the  person  and  practice  of  other  men,  this  shows 
that  the  man  is  wholly  transformed  from  the  creature  that 
God  first  made  him ;  nay,  that  he  has  consumed  those  poor 
remainders  of  good  that  the  sin  of  Adam  left  him ;  that  he 
has  worn  off  the  very  remote  dispositions  and  possibilities  to 
virtue ;  and,  in  a  word,  turned  grace  first,  and  afterwards 
nature  itself,  out  of  doors.  No  man  knows,  at  his  first  en 
trance  upon  any  sin,  how  far  it  may  carry  him  and  where  it 
will  stop;  the  commission  of  sin  being  generally  like  the 
pouring  out  of  water,  which,  when  once  poured  out,  knows 
no  other  bounds  but  to  run  as  far  as  it  can. 

2dly,  A  second  effect  of  this  disposition  of  mind  is,  that  it 
peculiarly  indisposes  a  man  to  repent,  and  recover  himself 
from  it.  For  the  first  step  to  repentance  is  a  man's  dislike 
of  his  sin  :  and  how  can  we  expect  that  a  man  should  con 
ceive  any  thorough  dislike  of  that  which  has  took  such  an 
absolute  possession  of  his  heart  and  affections,  that  he  likes 
and  loves  it,  not  only  in  his  own  practice,  but  also  in  other 
men's  ?  nay,  that  he  is  pleased  with  it,  though  he  is  past 
the  practice  of  it.  Such  a  temper  of  mind  is  a  downright 
contradiction  to  repentance  ;  as  being  founded  in  the  destruc 
tion  of  those  qualities  which  are  the  only  dispositions  and 
preparatives  to  it.  For  that  natural  tenderness  of  conscience, 

VOL.  i.  24 


370  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SKRM.  xvm. 

which  must  first  create  in  the  soul  a  sense  of  sin,  and  from 
thence  produce  a  sorrow  for  it,  and  at  length  cause  a  relin- 
quishment  of  it ;  that,  I  say,  (we  have  already  shown,)  is  took 
away  by  a  customary,  repeated  course  of  sinning  against  con 
science  :  so  that  the  very  first  foundation  of  virtue,  which  is 
the  natural  power  of  distinguishing  between  the  moral  good 
and  evil  of  any  action,  is,  in  effect,  plucked  up  and  destroyed ; 
and  the  Spirit  of  God  finds  nothing  in  the  heart  of  such  an 
one  to  apply  the  means  of  grace  to ;  all  taste,  relish,  and 
discernment  of  the  suitableness  of  virtue,  and  the  unsuitable- 
ness  of  vice,  being  utterly  gone  from  it. 

And  as  this  is  a  direct  bar  to  that  part  of  repentance  which 
looks  back  with  sorrow  and  indignation  upon  what  is  past,  so 
is  it  equally  such  to  that  greater  part  of  repentance  which  is 
to  look  forward,  and  to  prevent  sin  for  the  future.  For  this 
properly  delivers  a  man  up  to  sin ;  forasmuch  as  it  leaves  his 
heart  destitute  of  all  those  principles  which  should  resist  it. 
So  that  such  an  one  must  be  as  bad  as  the  devil  will  have  him, 
and  can  be  no  better  than  the  devil  will  let  him.  In  both  he 
must  submit  to  his  measures.  And  what  is  this  but  a  kind 
of  entrance  into,  or  rather  an  anticipation  of  hell  ?  What 
is  it  but  judgment  and  damnation  already  begun  ?  For  a 
man  in  such  a  case  is  as  sure  of  it  as  if  he  were  actually  in 
the  flames. 

3dly,  A  third  effect  of  this  disposition  of  mind  (which  also 
naturally  follows  from  the  former)  is,  that  the  longer  a  man 
lives  the  wickeder  he  grows,  and  his  last  days  are  certainly 
his  worst.  It  has  been  observed,  that  to  delight  in  other 
men's  sins  was  most  properly  the  vice  of  old  age ;  and  we  shall 
also  find  that  it  may  be  as  truly  and  properly  called  the  old 
age  of  vice.  For,  as  first,  old  age  necessarily  implies  a  man's 
having  lived  so  many  years  before  it  comes  upon  him ;  and 
withal,  this  sort  of  viciousness  supposes  the  precedent  com 
mission  of  many  sins,  by  which  a  man  arrives  to  it ;  so  it  has 
this  further  property  of  old  age  :  that,  as  when  a  man  comes 
once  to  be  old,  he  never  retreats,  but  still  goes  on,  and  grows 
every  day  older  and  older ;  so  when  a  man  comes  once  to  such 
a  degree  of  wickedness  as  to  delight  in  the  wickedness  of 
other  men,  it  is  more  than  ten  thousand  to  one  odds,  if  he 
ever  returns  to  a  better  mind,  but  grows  every  day  worse  and 


ROM.  i.  32.]        taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  371 

worse.  For  he  has  nothing  else  to  take  up  his  thoughts,  and 
nothing  to  entertain  his  desires  with ;  which,  by  a  long  es 
trangement  from  better  things,  come  at  length  perfectly  to 
loathe  and  fly  off  from  them. 

A  notable  instance  of  which  we  have  in  Tiberius  Caesar, 
who  was  bad  enough  in  his  youth,  but  superlatively  and  mon 
strously  so  in  his  old  age :  and  the  reason  of  this  was,  because 
he  took  a  particular  pleasure  in  seeing  other  men  do  vile  and 
odious  things.  So  that  all  his  diversion  at  his  beloved  Caprese, 
was  to  be  a  spectator  of  the  devil's  actors,  representing  the 
worst  of  vices  upon  that  infamous  stage. 

And  therefore  let  not  men  flatter  themselves,  (as  no  doubt 
some  do,)  that  though  they  find  it  difficult  at  present  to  com 
bat  and  stand  out  against  an  ill  practice,  and  upon  that  ac 
count  give  way  to  a  continuance  in  it,  yet  that  old  age  shall 
do  that  for  them  which  they  in  their  youth  could  never  find 
in  their  heart  to  do  for  themselves ;  I  say,  let  not  such  per 
sons  mock  and  abuse  themselves  with  such  false  and  absurd 
presumptions.  For  they  must  know  that  a  habit  may  con 
tinue  when  it  is  no  longer  able  to  act ;  or  rather  the  elicit, 
internal  acts  of  it  may  be  quick  and  vigorous,  when  the  ex 
ternal,  imperate  acts  of  the  same  habit  utterly  cease  :  and  let 
men  but  reflect  upon  their  own  observation,  and  consider 
impartially  with  themselves,  how  few  in  the  world  they  have 
known  made  better  by  age.  Generally  they  will  see,  that  such 
leave  not  their  vice,  but  their  vice  leaves  them ;  or  rather 
retreats  from  their  practices,  and  retires  into  their  fancy ; 
and  that,  we  know,  is  boundless  and  infinite  :  and  when  vice 
has  once  settled  itself  there,  it  finds  a  vaster  and  a  wider 
compass  to  act  in  than  ever  it  had  before.  I  scarce  know 
any  thing  that  calls  for  a  more  serious  consideration  from  us 
than  this :  for  still  men  are  apt  to  persuade  themselves  that 
they  shall  find  it  an  easy  matter  to  grow  virtuous  as  they  grow 
old.  But  it  is  a  way  of  arguing  highly  irrational  and  falla 
cious.  For  this  is  a  maxim  of  eternal  truth;  that  nothing 
grows  weak  with  age  but  that  which  will  at  length  die  with 
age,  which  sin  never  does.  The  longer  a  blot  continues,  the 
deeper  it  sinks.  And  it  will  be  found  a  work  of  no  small  dif 
ficulty  to  dispossess  and  throw  out  a  vice  from  that  heart 
where  long  possession  begins  to  plead  prescription.  It  is 


372  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SBRM.  xvm. 

naturally  impossible  for  an  old  man  to  grow  young  again ;  and 
it  is  next  to  impossible  for  a  decrepit  aged  sinner  to  become  a 
new  creature,  and  be  born  again. 

4thly  and  lastly,  We  need  no  other  argument  of  the  malign 
effects  of  this  disposition  of  mind,  than  this  one  consideration, 
that  many  perish  eternally  who  never  arrived  to  such  a  pitch 
of  wickedness  as  to  take  any  pleasure  in,  or  indeed  to  be  at  all 
concerned  about,  the  sins  of  other  men.  But  they  perish  in 
the  pursuit  of  their  own  lusts,  and  the  obedience  they  person 
ally  yield  to  their  own  sinful  appetites  :  and  that,  question 
less,  very  often  not  without  a  considerable  mixture  of  inward 
dislike  of  themselves  for  what  they  do :  yet  for  all  that,  their 
sin,  we  see,  proving  too  hard  for  them,  the  overpowering 
stream  carries  them  away,  and  down  they  sink  into  the  bot 
tomless  pit,  though  under  the  weight  of  a  guilt  by  vast  de 
grees  inferior  to  that  which  we  have  been  discoursing  of. 
For  doubtless  many  men  are  finally  lost,  who  yet  have  no 
men's  sins  to  answer  for  but  their  own :  who  never  enticed 
nor  perverted  others  to  sin,  and  much  less  applauded  or  en 
couraged  them  in  their  sin  :  but  only  being  slaves  to  their 
own  corrupt  affections,  have  lived  and  died  under  the  killing 
power  of  them,  and  so  passed  to  a  sad  eternity. 

But  that  other  devilish  way  of  sinning,  hitherto  spoken  of, 
is  so  far  beyond  this,  that  this  is  a  kind  of  innocence,  or 
rather  a  kind  of  charity,  compared  to  it.  For  this  is  a  soli 
tary,  single,  that  a  complicated,  multiplied  guilt.  And  in 
deed,  if  we  consider  at  what  a  rate  some  men  sin  nowadays, 
that  man  sins  charitably  who  damns  nobody  but  himself. 
But  the  other  sort  of  sinners,  who  may  properly  enough  be 
said  to  people  hell,  and,  in  a  very  ill  sense,  to  bear  the  sins  of 
many  ;  as  they  have  a  guilt  made  up  of  many  guilts,  so  what 
can  they  reasonably  expect  but  a  damnation  equivalent  to 
many  damnations  ? 

And  thus  much  for  the  first  general  inference  from  the 
foregoing  discourse,  showing  the  malignity  of  such  a  dispo 
sition  of  mind  as  induces  a  man  to  delight  in  other  men's  sins 
with  reference  to  particular  persons. 

2dly,  The  other  inference  shall  be  with  reference  to  com 
munities,  or  bodies  of  men ;  and  so  such  a  disposition  has  a 
most  direct  and  efficacious  influence  to  propagate,  multiply, 


ROM.  i.  32.]        taking  Pleasure  in  otlier  Men's  Sins.  373 

and  spread  the  practice  of  any  sin,  till  it  becomes  general  and 
national.  For  this  is  most  certain,  that  some  men's  taking 
pleasure  in  other  men's  sins,  will  cause  many  men  to  sin,  to 
do  them  a  pleasure ;  and  this  will  appear  upon  these  three 
accounts.  1.  That  it  is  seldom  or  never  that  any  man  comes 
to  such  a  degree  of  impiety  as  to  take  pleasure  in  other  men's 
sins,  but  he  also  shows  the  world  by  his  actions  and  behavior 
that  he  does  so.  2.  That  there  are  few  men  in  the  world  so 
inconsiderable,  but  there  are  some  or  other  who  have  an 
interest  to  serve  by  them.  And,  3.  That  the  natural  course 
that  one  man  takes  to  serve  his  interest  by  another  is,  by  ap 
plying*  himself  to  him  in  such  a  way  as  may  most  gratify  and 
delight  him. 

Now  from  these  three  things  put  together,  it  is  not  only 
easy,  but  necessary  to  infer,  that  since  the  generality  of  men 
are  wholly  acted  by  their  present  interest,  if  they  find  those 
who  can  best  serve  them  in  this  their  interest,  most  likely 
also  to  be  gained  over  so  to  do  by  the  sinful  and  vile  practices 
of  those  who  address  to  them ;  no  doubt  such  practices  shall 
be  pursued  by  such  persons,  in  order  to  the  compassing  their 
desired  ends.  Where  greatness  takes  no  delight  in  goodness, 
we  may  be  sure  there  shall  be  but  little  goodness  seen  in  the 
lives  of  those  who  have  an  interest  to  serve  by  such  an  one's 
greatness.  For  take  any  illustrious,  potent  sinner,  whose 
power  is  wholly  employed  to  serve  his  pleasure,  and  whose 
chief  pleasure  is  to  see  others  as  bad  and  wicked  as  himself; 
and  there  is  no  question  but  in  a  little  time  he  will  also  make 
them  so  ;  and  his  dependents  shall  quickly  become  his  prose 
lytes.  They  shall  sacrifice  their  virtue  to  his  humor,  spend 
their  credit  and  good  name,  nay,  and  their  very  souls  too,  to 
serve  him ;  and  that  by  the  worst  and  basest  of  services, 
which  is,  by  making  themselves  like  him.  It  is  but  too  noto 
rious  how  long  vice  has  reigned,  or  rather  raged  amongst  us  ; 
and  with  what  a  bare  face  and  a  brazen  forehead  it  walks 
about  the  nation,  as  it  were,  elato  capite,  and  looking  down 
with  scorn  upon  virtue  as  a  contemptible  and  a  mean  thing. 
Vice  could  not  come  to  this  pitch  by  chance.  But  we  have 
sinned  apace,  and  at  an  higher  strain  of  villainy  than  the  fops 
our  ancestors  (as  some  are  pleased  to  call  them)  could  ever 
arrive  to.  So  that  we  daily  see  maturity  and  age  in  vice 


374  Of  the  Heinous  Guilt  of  [SERM.  xvm. 

joined  with  youth  and  greenness  of  years ;  a  manifest  ar 
gument,  no  doubt,  of  the  great  docility  and  pregnancy  of 
parts,  that  is,  in  the  present  age,  above  all  the  former. 

For,  in  respect  of  vice,  nothing  is  more  usual  nowadays 
than  for  boys  illico  nasci  senes.  They  see  their  betters  delight 
in  ill  things  ;  they  observe  reputation  and  countenance  to  at 
tend  the  practice  of  them  ;  and  this  carries  them  on  furiously 
to  that  which,  of  themselves,  they  are  but  too  much  inclined 
to ;  and  which  laws  were  purposely  made  by  wise  men  to  keep 
them  from.  They  are  glad,  you  may  be  sure,  to  please  and 
prefer  themselves  at  once,  and  to  serve  their  interest  and 
their  sensuality  together. 

And  as  they  are  come  to  this  heght  and  rampancy  of  vice, 
in  a  great  measure,  from  the  countenance  of  their  betters  and 
superiors,  so  they  have  took  some  steps  higher  in  the  same 
from  this,  That  the  follies  and  extravagances  of  the  young  too 
frequently  carry  with  them  the  suffrage  and  approbation  of 
the  old.  For  age,  which  naturally  and  unavoidably  is  but  one 
remove  from  death,  and  consequently  should  have  nothing 
about  it  but  what  looks  like  a  decent  preparation  for  it,  scarce 
ever  appears  of  late  days  but  in  the  high  mode,  the  flaunting 
garb,  and  utmost  gaudery  of  youth ;  with  clothes  as  ridicu 
lously,  and  as  much  in  the  fashion,  as  the  person  that  wears 
them  is  usually  grown  out  of  it.  The  eldest  equal  the  young 
est  in  the  vanity  of  their  dress,  and  no  other  reason  can  be 
given  of  it,  but  that  they  equal,  if  not  surpass  them  in  the 
vanity  of  their  desires.  So  that  those  who  by  the  majesty 
and,  as  I  may  so  say,  the  prerogative  of  their  age,  should  even 
frown  youth  into  sobriety  and  better  manners,  are  now  striv 
ing  all  they  can  to  imitate  and  strike  in  with  them,  and  to 
be  really  vicious,  that  they  may  be  thought  to  be  young. 

The  sad  and  apparent  truth  of  which  makes  it  very  super 
fluous  to  inquire  after  any  further  cause  of  that  monstrous 
increase  of  vice,  that  like  a  torrent,  or  rather  a  breaking  in  of 
the  sea  upon  us,  has  of  late  years  overflowed  and  victoriously 
carried  all  before  it.  Both  the  honorable  and  the  aged  have 
contributed  all  they  could  to  the  promotion  of  it ;  and,  so  far 
as  they  are  able,  to  give  the  best  color  to  the  worst  of  things. 
This  they  have  endeavored,  and  thus  much  they  have  effected, 
that  men  now  see  that  vice  makes  them  acceptable  to  those 


ROM.  i.  32.]       taking  Pleasure  in  other  Men's  Sins.  375 

who  are  able  to  make  them  considerable.  It  is  the  key  that 
lets  them  into  their  very  heart,  and  enables  them  to  command 
all  that  is  there.  And  if  this  be  the  price  of  favor,  and  the 
market  of  honor,  no  doubt  where  the  trade  is  so  quick,  and 
withal  so  certain,  multitudes  will  be  sure  to  follow  it. 

This  is  too  manifestly  our  present  case.  All  men  see  it ; 
and  wise  and  good  men  lament  it :  and  where  vice,  pushed  on 
with  such  mighty  advantages,  will  stop  its  progress,  it  is  hard 
to  judge  :  it  is  certainly  above  all  human  remedies  to  control 
the  prevailing  course  of  it ;  unless  the  great  Governor  of  the 
world,  who  quells  the  rage  and  swelling  of  the  sea,  and  sets 
bars  and  doors  to  it,  beyond  which  the  proudest  of  its  waves 
can  not  pass,  shall,  in  his  infinite  compassion  to  us,  do  the 
same  to  that  ocean  of  vice  which  now  swells,  and  roars,  and 
lifts  up  itself  above  all  banks  and  bounds  of  human  laws; 
and  so,  by  his  omnipotent  word,  reducing  its  power,  and  abas 
ing  its  pride,  shall  at  length  say  to  it,  Hitherto  shalt  thou  come, 
and  no  further.  Which  God  in  his  good  time  effect. 

To  whom  he  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise, 
might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for  evermore. 
Anieii. 


SERMON  XIX. 


NATURAL  RELIGION,  WITHOUT  REVELATION,  SHOWN  ONLY 
SUFFICIENT  TO  RENDER  A  SINNER  INEXCUSABLE : 

IN  A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  UNIVERSITY,  AT  CHRIST  CHURCH,  OXON, 

NOVEMBER  2,  1690. 


ROMANS  i.  20 So  that  they  are  without  excuse. 


T] 


IHIS  excellent  epistle,  though  in  the  front  of  it  it  bears 
a  particular  inscription,  yet,  in  the  drift  and  purpose  of 
it,  is  universal ;  as  designing  to  convince  all  mankind  (whom 
it  supposes  in  pursuit  of  true  happiness)  of  the  necessity  of 
seeking  for  it  in  the  Gospel,  and  the  impossibility  of  finding 
it  elsewhere.  All  without  the  church,  at  that  time,  were 
comprehended  under  the  division  .of  Jews  and  Gentiles,  called 
here  by  the  apostle,  Greeks ;  the  nobler  and  more  noted  part 
being  used  for  the  whole.  Accordingly,  from  the  second 
chapter,  down  along,  he  addresses  himself  to  the  Jews,  show 
ing  the  insufficiency  of  their  law  to  justify,  or  make  them 
happy,  how  much  soever  they  doated  upon  it.  But  here,  in 
this  first  chapter,  he  deals  with  the  Greeks,  or  Gentiles,  who 
sought  for  and  promised  themselves  the  same  happiness  from 
the  dictates  of  right  reason,  which  the  Jews  did  from  the 
Mosaic  law.  Where,  after  he  had  took  an  account  of  what 
their  bare  reason  had  taught  them  in  the  things  of  God,  and 
compared  the  superstructure  with  the  foundation,  their  prac 
tice  with  their  knowledge,  he  finds  them  so  far  from  arriving 
at  the  happiness  which  they  aspire  to  by  this  means,  that  upon 
a  full  survey  of  the  whole  matter,  the  result  of  all  comes  to 
this  sad  and  deplorable  issue,  that  they  were  sinful  and  miser 
able,  and  that  without  excuse.  In  the  words,  taken  with  the 


ROM.  i.  20.]        Natural  Religion  without  Revelation.  377 

coherence  of  the  precedent  and  subsequent  verses,  we  have 
these  four  things  considerable : 

I.  The  sin  here  followed  upon  a  certain  sort  of  men,  with 
this  so  severe  a  judgment ;  namely,  that  knowing  God,  they  did 
not  glorify  him  as  God,  ver.  21. 

II.  The  persons  guilty  of  this  sin ;  they  were  such  as  pro 
fessed  themselves  wise,  ver.  22. 

III.  The  cause  or  reason  of  their  falling  into  this   sin; 
which  was  their  holding  the  truth  in  unrighteousness,  ver.  18. 
And, 

IV.  and  lastly,  The  judgment,  or  rather  the  state  and  con 
dition,  penally  consequent  upon  these  sinners ;  namely,  that 
they  were  without  excuse,  ver.  20. 

Of  each  of  which  in  their  order  :  and  first,  for  the  first  of 
them. 

The  sin  here  followed  with  so  severe  a  judgment,  and  so 
highly  aggravated  and  condemned  by  the  apostle,  is,  by 
the  united  testimony  of  most  divines  upon  this  place,  the  sin 
of  idolatry ;  which  the  apostle  affirms  to  consist  in  this : 
That  tlie  Gentiles  glorified  11  ot  God,  as  God.  Which  general 
charge  he  also  draws  forth  into  particulars;  as,  that  they 
clumged  his  glory  into  the  similitude  and  images  of  men,  and 
beasts,  and  birds  ;  where,  by  glory,  he  means  God's  worship, 
to  wit,  that  by  which  men  glorify  him,  and  not  the  essen 
tial  glory  of  his  nature ;  it  being  such  a  glory  as  was  in 
men's  power  to  change  and  to  debase ;  and  therefore  must 
needs  consist,  either  in  those  actions,  or  those  means,  which 
they  performed  the  divine  worship  by.  I  know  no  place  from 
which  we  may  more  clearly  gather  what  the  scripture  ac 
counts  idolatry,  than  from  this  chapter.  From  whence,  that 
I  may  represent  to  you  what  idolatry  is,  and  wherein  one  sort 
of  it,  at  least,  does  consist,  you  may  observe,  that  the  persons 
who  are  here  charged  with  it  are  positively  affirmed  to  have 
known  and  acknowledged  the  true  God.  For  it  is  said  of 
them,  that  they  knew  hi&  eternal  power  and  godhead,  in  this 
twentieth  verse;  nay,  and  they  worshiped  him  too.  From 
whence  this  undeniably  and  invincibly  follows,  that  they  did 
not  look  upon  those  images  which  they  addressed  to,  as 
gods,  nor  as  things  in  which  the  divine  nature  did  or  could 
enclose  itself;  nor,  consequently,  to  which  they  gave,  or  ulti- 


378  Natural  Religion  without  Revelation       [SERM.  xix. 

mately  designed  their  religious  worship.  This  conclusion 
therefore  I  infer,  and  assert,  that  idolatry  is  not  only  an  ac 
counting  or  worshiping  that  for  God  which  is  not  God,  hut  it 
is  also  a  worshiping  the  true  God  in  a  way  wholly  unsuitable 
to  his  nature ;  and  particularly  by  the  mediation  of  images 
and  corporeal  resemblances  of  him.  This  is  idolatry :  for  the 
persons  here  spoken  of  pretended  to  glorify  the  true  God, 
but  they  did  not  glorify  him  as  God,  and  upon  that  account 
stand  arraigned  for  idolaters.  Common  sense  and  experience 
will  ^and  must  evince  the  truth  of  this.  For  can  any  one 
imagine  that  men  of  reason,  who  had  their  senses  quick, 
and  their  wits  and  discourse  entire,  could  take  that  image  or 
statue,  which  they  fell  down  before,  to  be  a  god?  Could 
they  think  that  to  be  infinite  and  immense,  the  ubiquity  of 
which  they  could  thrust  into  a  corner,  of  their  closet  ?  Or, 
could  they  conceive  that  to  be  eternal,  which  a  few  days  be 
fore  they  had  seen  a  log,  or  a  rude  trunk,  and  perhaps  the 
other  piece  of  it  a  joint-stool  in  the  workman's  shop  ? 

The  ground  and  reason  of  all  worship  is,  an  opinion  of 
power  and  will  in  the  person  worshiped  to  answer  and  sup 
ply  our  desires ;  which  he  can  not  possibly  do,  unless  he  first 
apprehend  them.  But  can  any  man,  who  is  master  of 
sense  himself,  believe  the  rational  heathens  so  void  of  it,  as 
to  think  that  those  images  could  fulfill  the  petitions  which 
they  could  not  hear,  pity  the  wants  they  could  not  see,  do 
all  things  when  they  could  not  stir  an  hand  or  a  foot  ?  It  is 
impossible  they  should ;  but  it  is  also  certain  that  they  were 
idolaters. 

And  therefore  it  is  clear  that  their  idolatry  consisted  in 
something  else,  and  the  history  of  it  would  demonstrate  so 
much,  were  it  proper  to  turn  a  sermon  into  a  history.  So 
that  we  see  here,  that  the  sin  condemned  in  the  text  was  the 
worshiping  of  the  true  God  by  images.  For  the  defense  of 
which  there  is  no  doubt  but  they  might  have  pleaded,  and 
did  plead  for  those  images,  that  they  used  them  not  as  ob 
jects,  but  only  as  means  and  instruments  of  divine  worship, 
not  as  what  they  worshiped,  but  as  that  by  which  they  di 
rected  their  worship  to  God.  Though  still,  methinks  it  is 
something  hard  to  conceive,  that  none  of  the  worship  should 
fall  upon  the  image  by  the  way,  or  that  the  water  can  be  con- 


ROM.  i.  20.]  renders  a  Sinner  inexcusable.  379 

veyed  into  the  sea,  without  so  much  as  wetting  the  channel 
through  which  it  passes.  But  however,  you  see  it  requires 
a  very  distinguishing  head,  and  an  even  hand,  and  no  small 
skill  in  directing  the  intention,  to  carry  a  prayer  quite 
through  to  its  journey's  end :  though,  after  all,  the  mischief 
of  it  is,  that  the  distinction,  which  looks  so  fine  in  the  theory, 
generally  miscarries  in  the  practice  ;  especially  where  the 
ignorant  vulgar  are  the  practicers,  who  are  the  worst  in  the 
world  at  distinguishing,  but  yet  make  far  the  greatest  part 
of  mankind,  and  are  as  much  concerned  and  obliged  to  pray 
as  the  wisest  and  the  best ;  but  withal,  infinitely  unhappy, 
if  they  can  not  perform  a  necessary  duty  without  school-dis 
tinctions,  nor  beg  their  daily  bread  without  metaphysics. 
And  thus  much  for  the  first  thing  proposed;  namely,  the  sin 
here  spoken  against  by  the  apostle  in  the  text ;  which  was 
idolatry. 

2.  The  second  is  the  persons  charged  with  this  sin.  And 
they  were  not  the  Gnostics,  as  some  whimsically  imagine, 
who  can  never  meet  with  the  words  yivoxr/coi/res,  ytvwo-Ketv, 
yvwo-is,  or  yvwo-roi/,  but  presently  the  Gnostics  must  be  drawn 
in  by  the  head  and  shoulders  ;  but  the  persons  here  meant 
were  plainly  and  manifestly  the  old  heathen  philosophers ;  such 
as  not  only  in  the  apostle's,  but  also  in  their  own  phrase,  pro 
fessed  themselves  to  be  wise.  Their  great  title  was  <ro<£o!,  and 
the  word  of  applause  still  given  to  their  lectures  was  OTO^OJS. 
And  Pythagoras  was  the  first  who  abated  of  the  invidious- 
ness  of  the  name,  and  from  o-o</>os  brought  it  down  to  </><Ad<ro</>os, 
from  a  master  to  a  lover  of  wisdom,  from  a  professor  to  a  can 
didate. 

These  were  the  men  here  intended  by  St.  Paul ;  men  fa 
mous  in  their  respective  ages ;  the  great  favorites  of  nature, 
and  the  top  and  masterpiece  of  art ;  men  whose  aspiring 
intellectuals  had  raised  them  above  the  common  level,  and 
made  them  higher  by  the  head  than  the  world  round  about 
them.  Men  of  a  polite  reason,  and  a  notion  refined  and  en 
larged  by  meditation.  Such,  as  with  all  these  advantages  of 
parts  and  study,  had  been  toiling  and  plodding  many  years, 
to  outwit  and  deceive  themselves ;  sat  up  many  nights,  and 
spent  many  days  to  impose  a  fallacy  upon  their  reason ;  and, 
in  a  word,  ran  the  round  of  all  the  arts  and  sciences  to  arrive, 


380  Natural  Religion  without  Revelation      [SERM.  xix. 

at  length,  at  a  glorious  and  elaborate  folly ;  even  these,  I  say, 
these  grandees  and  giants  in  knowledge,  who  thus  looked 
down,  as  it  were,  upon  the  rest  of  mankind,  and  laughed  at 
all  besides  themselves,  as  barbarous  and  insignificant,  (as 
quick  and  sagacious  as  they  were  to  look  into  the  little  in 
trigues  of  matter  and  motion,  which  a  man  might  salva  scien- 
tia,  or  at  least,  salva  anima  ignorare,)  yet  blundered  and  stum 
bled  about  their  grand  and  principal  concern,  the  knowledge 
of  their  duty  to  God,  sinking  into  the  meanest  and  most  ri 
diculous  instances  of  idolatry ;  even  so  far  as  to  worship  the 
great  God  under  the  form  of  beasts  and  creeping  things;  to 
adore  eternity  and  immensity  in  a  brute  or  a  plant,  or  some 
viler  thing ;  bowing  down,  in  their  adoration,  to  such  things 
as  they  would  scarce  otherwise  have  bowed  down  to  take  up. 
Nay,  and  to  rear  temples,  and  make  altars  to  fear,  lust,  and 
revenge ;  there  being  scarce  a  corrupt  passion  of  the  mind,  or 
a  distemper  of  the  body,  but  what  they  worshiped.  So  that 
it  could  not  be  expected  that  they  should  ever  repent  of  those 
sins  which  they  thought  fit  to  deify,  nor  mortify  those  corrupt 
affections  to  which  they  ascribed  a  kind  of  divinity  and  im 
mortality.  By  all  which  they  fell  into  a  greater  absurdity  in 
matter  of  practice,  than  ever  any  one  of  them  did  in  point  of 
opinion ;  (which  yet  certainly  was  very  hard ;)  namely,  that 
having  confessed  a  God,  and  allowed  him  the  perfections  of  a 
God,  to  wit,  an  infinite  power  and  an  eternal  godhead,  they 
yet  denied  him  the  worship  of  God  :  thus  reversing  the  great 
truths  they  had  subscribed  to  in  speculation,  by  a  brutish, 
senseless  devotion,  managed  with  a  greater  prostration  of  rea 
son  than  of  body. 

Had  the  poor  vulgar  rout  only,  who  were  held  under  the 
prejudices  and  prepossessions  of  education,  been  abused  into 
such  idolatrous  superstitions  as  to  adore  a  marble  or  a  golden 
deity,  it  might  have  been  detested  indeed,  or  pitied,  but  not 
so  much  to  be  wondered  at :  but  for  the  stoa,  the  academy,  or 
the  peripaton  to  own  such  a  paradox ;  for  an  Aristotle  or  a 
Plato  to  think  their  Novs  <uSto?,  their  eternal  mind  or  universal 
spirit,  to  be  found  in,  or  served  by,  the  images  of  four-footed 
beasts;  for  the  Stagirite  to  recognize  his  gods  in  his  own 
book  de  Animalibus ;  this,  as  the  apostle  says,  was  without 
excuse :  and  how  will  these  men  answer  for  their  sins,  who 


ROM.  i.  20.]  renders  a  Sinner  inexcusable.  381 

stand  thus  condemned  for  their  devotions  ?  And  thus,  from 
the  persons  here  charged  by  the  apostle  with  the  sin  of  idol 
atry,  pass  we  now  to  the 

3d  thing-  proposed ;  namely,  the  cause  or  reason  of  their 
falling  into  this  sin ;  and  that  was  their  holding  of  the  truth 
in  unrighteousness.  For  the  making  out  of  which,  we  must 
inquire  into  these  two  things  : 

1.  What  was  the  truth  here  spoken  of. 

2.  How  they  held  it  in  unrighteousness. 

For  the  first  of  them ;  there  were  these  six  great  truths, 
the  knowledge  of  which  the  Gentile  philosophers  stood  ac 
countable  for :  as, 

1.  That  there  was  a  God;  a  being  distinct  from  this  visible, 
material   world ;    infinitely  perfect,  omniscient,    omnipotent, 
eternal,  transcendently  good  and  holy.     For   all   this  is  in 
cluded  in  the  very  notion  of  a  God.     And  this  was  a  truth 
wrote  with  a  sunbeam,  clear  and  legible  to  all  mankind,  and 
received  by  universal  consent. 

2.  That  this  God  was  the  maker  and  governor  of  this  vis 
ible  world.     The  first  of  which  was  evident  from  the  very 
order  of  causes ;  the  great  argument  by  which  natural  reason 
evinces  a  God.     It  being  necessary,  in  such  an  order  or  chain 
of  causes,  to  ascend  to,  and  terminate  in,  some  first :  which 
should  be  the  original  of  motion,  and  the  cause  of  all  other 
things,  but  itself  be  caused   by  none.     And  then,  that  God 
also  governed  the  world,  this  followed  from  the  other ;   for 
that  a  creature  should  not  depend  upon  its  Creator  in  all  re 
spects  in  which  it  is  capable  of  depending  upon  him,  (amongst 
which,  to  be  governed  by  him,  is  certainly  one,)  is  contrary 
to  the  common  order  and  nature  of  things,  and  those  essen 
tial  relations  which  (by  virtue  thereof)  they  bear  to  one  an 
other  ;    and   consequently  absurd  and  impossible.      So   that 
upon  a  bare  principle  of  reason,  creation   must  needs  infer 
providence ;  and  God's  making  the  world,  irrefragably  prove 
that  he  governs  it  too  ;  or  that  a  Being  of  a  dependent  nature 
remains  nevertheless  independent  upon  him  in  that  respect. 
Besides  all  which,  it  is  also  certain  that  the  heathens  did  act 
ually  acknowledge  the  world  governed  by  a  supreme  mind; 
which  knowledge,  whether  they  had  it  from  tradition  or  the 
discourses  of  reason,  they  stood  however  equally  accountable 
for  upon  either  account. 


382  Natural  Religion  without  Revelation       [SERM.  xix. 

3dly,  That  this  God,  or  supreme  Being-,  was  to  be  wor 
shiped.  For  this  was  founded  upon  his  omnipotence  and  his 
providence.  Since  he,  who  would  preserve  or  destroy  as  he 
pleased,  and  withal  governed  the  world,  ought  surely  to  be 
depended  upon  by  those  who  were  thus  obnoxious  to  his  power 
and  subject  to  his  government ;  which  dependence  could  not 
manifest  itself  but  by  acts  of  worship,  homage,  and  address 
to  the  person  thus  depended  upon. 

4thly,  That  this  God  was  to  be  worshiped,  or  addressed  to, 
by  virtuous  and  pious  practices.  For  so  much  his  essential 
holiness  required,  and  those  innate  notions  of  turpe  et  honestum, 
wrote  in  the  consciences  of  all  men,  and  joined  with  the  ap 
prehensions  they  had  of  the  infinite  purity  of  the  divine 
nature,  could  not  but  suggest. 

5thly,  That  upon  any  deviation  from  virtue  and  piety,  it 
was  the  duty  of  every  rational  creature  so  deviating,  to  con 
demn,  renounce,  and  be  sorry  for  every  such  deviation :  that 
is,  in  other  words,  to  repent  of  it.  What  indeed  the  issue  or 
effect  of  such  a  repentance  might  be,  bare  reason  could  not 
of  itself  discover,  but  that  a  peccant  creature  should  disap 
prove,  and  repent  of  every  violation  of,  and  declination  from, 
the  rules  of  just  and  honest,  this,  right  reason,  discoursing 
upon  the  stock  of  its  own  principles,  could  not  but  infer. 
And  the  conscience  of  every  man,  before  it  is  debauched  and 
hardened  by  habitual  sin,  will  recoil  after  the  doing  of  an  evil 
action,  and  acquit  him  after  a  good. 

Gthly  and  lastly,  That  every  such  deviation  from  duty  ren 
dered  the  person  so  deviating  liable  and  obnoxious  to  punish 
ment.  I  do  not  say  that  it  made  punishment  necessary,  but 
that  it  made  the  person  so  transgressing  worthy  of  it ;  so 
that  it  might  justly  be  inflicted  on  him,  and  consequently 
ought  rationally  to  be  feared  and  expected  by  him.  And 
upon  this  notion,  universally  fixed  in  the  minds  of  men,  were 
grounded  all  their  sacrifices,  and  rites  of  expiation,  and  lus 
tration  ;  the  use  of  which  has  been  so  general,  both  as  to 
times  and  places,  that  there  is  no  age  or  nation  of  the  world 
in  which  they  have  not  been  used  as  principal  parts  of  relig 
ious  worship. 

Now  these  six  grand  truths  were  the  talent  intrusted  and 
deposited  by  God  in  the  hands  of  the  Gentiles  for  them  to 


ROM.  i.  20.]  renders  a  Sinner  inexcusable.  383 

traffic  with,  to  his  honor  and  their  own  happiness.  But 
what  little  improvement  they  made  of  this  noble  talent,  shall 
now  be  shown  in  the  next  particular ;  namely,  their  holding 
of  it  in  unrighteousness  :  which  they  did  several  ways.  As, 

1.  By  not  acting  up  to  what  they  knew.  As  in  many 
things  their  knowledge  was  short  of  the  truth,  so,  almost  in 
all  things,  their  practice  fell  short  of  their  knowledge.  The 
principles  by  which  they  walked  were  as  much  below  those 
by  which  they  judged  as  their  feet  were  below  their  head. 
By  the  one  they  looked  upwards,  while  they  placed  the  other 
in  the  dirt.  Their  writings  sufficiently  show  what  raised  and 
sublime  notions  they  had  of  the  divine  nature,  while  they 
employed  their  reason  about  that  glorious  object,  and  what 
excellent  discourses  of  virtue  and  morality  the  same  reason 
enabled  them  to  furnish  the  world  with.  But  when  they 
came  to  transcribe  these  theories  into  practice,  one  seemed  to 
be  of  no  other  use  to  them  at  all,  but  only  to  reproach  them 
for  the  other.  For  they  neither  depended  upon  this  God  as 
if  he  were  almighty,  nor  worshiped  him  as  if  they  believed 
him  holy;  but  in  both  prevaricated  with  their  own  principles 
to  that  degree,  that  their  practice  was  a  direct  contradiction 
to  their  speculations.  For  the  proof  of  which,  go  over  all  the 
heathen  temples,  and  take  a  survey  of  the  absurdities  and 
impieties  of  their  worship,  their  monstrous  sacrifices,  their 
ridiculous  rites  and  ceremonies.  In  all  which,  common  sense 
and  reason  could  not  but  tell  them,  that  the  good  and  gra 
cious  God  could  not  be  pleased,  nor  consequently  worshiped, 
with  any  thing  barbarous  or  cruel ;  nor  the  most  holy  God 
with  any  thing  filthy  and  unclean ;  nor  a  God  infinitely  wise 
with  any  thing  sottish  or  ridiculous ;  and  yet  these  were  the 
worthy  qualifications  of  the  heathen  worship,  even  amongst 
their  greatest  and  most  reputed  philosophers. 

And  then,  for  the  duties  of  morality ;  surely  they  never 
wanted  so  much  knowledge  as  to  inform  and  convince  them 
of  the  unlawfulness  of  a  man's  being  a  murderer,  a  hater 
of  God,  a  covenant-breaker,  without  natural  affection,  impla 
cable,  unmerciful.  These  were  enormities  branded  and  con 
demned  by  the  first  and  most  natural  verdict  of  common  hu 
manity  ;  and  so  very  gross  and  foul,  that  no  man  could  pre 
tend  ignorance  that  they  ought  to  be  avoided  by  him:  and 


384  Natural  Religion  without  Revelation        [SERM.  xix. 

yet  the  apostle  tells  us,  in  the  last  verse  of  this  chapter,  that 
they  practiced  so  much  short  of  their  knowledge,  even  as  to 
these  particulars,  That  tJiough  they  knew  the  judgment  of  God, 
that  those  wlw  committed  such  things  were  worthy  of  death,  yet 
not  only  did  the  same  themselves,  but  also  had  pleasure  in  those 
that  did  them.  Which  certainly  is  the  greatest  demonstration 
of  a  mind  wholly  possessed  and  even  besotted  with  the  love 
of  vice,  that  can  possibly  be  imagined.  So  notoriously  did 
these  wretches  balk  the  judgment  of  their  consciences,  even 
in  the  plainest  and  most  undeniable  duties  relating  to  God, 
their  neighbor,  and  themselves,  as  if  they  had  owned  neither 
God  nor  neighbor,  but  themselves. 

2dly,  These  men  held  the  truth  in  unrighteousness,  by  not 
improving  those  known  principles  into  the  proper  conse 
quences  deducible  from  them.  For  surely  had  they  dis 
coursed  rightly  but  upon  this  one  principle,  that  God  was  a 
being  infinitely  perfect,  they  could  never  have  been  brought 
to  assert  or  own  a  multiplicity  of  gods.  For  can  one  god 
include  in  him  all  perfection,  and  another  god  include  in  him 
all  perfection  too  ?  Can  there  be  any  more  than  all  ?  and  if 
this  all  be  in  one,  can  it  be  also  in  another  ?  Or,  if  they  allot 
and  parcel  out  several  perfections  to  several  deities,  do  they 
not,  by  this,  assert  contradictions,  making  a  deity  only  to 
such  a  measure  perfect ;  whereas  a  deity,  as  such,  implies 
perfection  beyond  all  measure  or  limitation  ?  Nor  could  they, 
in  the  next  place,  have  slid  into  those  brutish  immoralities 
of  life,  had  they  duly  manured  those  first  practical  notions 
and  dictates  of  right  reason,  which  the  nature  of  man  is 
originally  furnished  with ;  there  being  not  any  one  of  them 
but  what  is  naturally  productive  of  many  more.  But  they 
quickly  stifled  and  overlaid  those  infant  principles,  those 
seeds  of  piety  and  virtue  sown  by  God  and  nature  in  their 
own  hearts ;  so  that  they  brought  a  voluntary  darkness  and 
stupidity  upon  their  minds  ;  and,  by  not  exercising  their  senses 
to  discern  between  good  and  evil,  came  at  length  to  lose  all 
sense  and  discernment  of  either :  whereupon,  as  the  apostle 
says  of  them  in  the  21st  verse  of  this  chapter  to  the  Romans, 
their  foolish  heart  was  darkened :  and  that,  not  only  by  the 
just  judgment  of  God,  but  also  by  the  very  course  of  nature  ; 
nothing  being  more  evident  from  experience  than  that  the 


ROM.  i.  20.]  renders  a  Sinner  inexcusable.  385 

not  using  or  employing  any  faculty  or  power,  either  of  body 
or  soul,  does  insensibly  weaken  and  impair  that  faculty ;  as  a 
sword  by  long  lying  still  will  contract  a  rust,  which  shall  not 
only  deface  its  brightness,  but  by  degrees  also  consume  its 
very  substance.  Doing  nothing,  naturally  ends  in  being 
nothing. 

It  holds  in  all  operative  principles  whatsoever,  but  especially 
in  such  as  relate  to  morality;  in  which,  not  to  proceed  is 
certainly  to  go  backward  ;  there  being  no  third  estate  between 
not  advancing  and  retreating  in  a  virtuous  course.  Growth 
is  of  the  very  essence  and  nature  of  some  things.  To  be  and 
to  thrive  is  all  one  with  them  ;  and  they  know  no  middle  sea 
son  between  their  spring  and  their  fall. 

And  therefore,  as  it  is  said  in  Matt.  xiii.  12,  that/rom  him 
who  Iwth  not,  shall  be  taken  away  even  that  which  he  hath  :  so 
he,  who  neglects  the  practice,  shall  in  the  end  also  lose  the 
very  power  and  faculty  of  doing  well.  That  which  stops  a 
man's  actual  breathing  very  long,  will,  in  the  issue,  take  away 
his  very  power  of  breathing  too.  To  hide  one's  talent  in  the 
ground  is  to  bury  it ;  and  the  burial  of  a  thing  either  finds  it 
dead,  or  will  quickly  make  it  so. 

3dly,  These  men  held  the  truth  in  unrighteousness  by  con 
cealing  what  they  knew.  For  how  rightly  soever  they  might 
conceive  of  God  and  of  virtue,  yet  the  illiterate  multitude, 
who,  in  such  things,  must  see  with  better  eyes  than  their 
own,  or  see  not  at  all,  were  never  the  wiser  for  it.  Whatso 
ever  the  inward  sentiments  of  those  sophisters  were,  they 
kept  them  wholly  to  themselves ;  hiding  all  those  important 
truths,  all  those  useful  notions  from  the  people,  and  teaching 
the  world  much  otherwise  from  what  they  judged  themselves. 
Though  I  think  a  greater  truth  than  this  can  not  well  be  ut 
tered  ;  That  never  any  thing  or  person  was  really  good,  which 
was  good  only  to  itself.  But  from  hence  it  was  that,  even  in 
a  literal  sense,  sin  came  to  be  established  by  a  law.  For 
amongst  the  Gentiles  the  laws  themselves  were  the  greatest 
offenders.  They  made  little  or  no  provision  for  virtue,  but 
very  much  for  vice :  for  the  early  and  universal  practice  of  sin 
had  turned  it  into  a  custom,  and  custom,  especially  in  sin, 
quickly  passed  into  common  law. 

Socrates  was  the  only  martyr  for  the  testimony  of  any  truth 

VOL.  I.  25 


386  Natural  Religion  without  Revelation.      [SEBM.  xix. 

that  we  read  of  amongst  the  heathens,  who  chose  rather  to 
be  condemned,  and  to  die,  than  either  to  renounce  or  conceal 
his  judgment  touching  the  unity  of  the  Godhead.  But  as  for 
the  rest  of  them,  even  Zeno  and  Chrysippus,  Plato  and  Aris 
totle,  and  generally  all  those  heroes  in  philosophy,  they  swam 
with  the  stream,  (as  foul  as  it  ran,)  leaving  the  poor  vulgar  as 
ignorant  and  sottish,  as  vicious  and  idolatrous,  as  they  first 
found  them. 

But  it  has  been  always  the  practice  of  the  governing  cheats 
of  all  religions,  to  keep  the  people  in  as  gross  ignorance  as 
possibly  they  could ;  for,  we  see,  the  heathen  impostors  used 
it  before  the  Christian  impostors  took  it  up  and  improved  it. 
Si  populus  decipi  vult,  decipiatur,  was  ever  a  gold  and  silver 
rule  amongst  them  all ;  though  the  pope's  legate  first  turned 
it  into  a  benediction  :  and  a  very  strange  one  it  was,  and 
enough,  one  would  think,  to  have  made  all  that  heard  it  look 
about  them,  and  begin  to  bless  themselves.  For  as  Demetrius, 
a  great  master  in  such  arts,  told  his  fellow-artists,  Acts  xix. 
25,  it  was  by  this  craft  that  they  got  their  wealth :  so  long  ex 
perience  has  found  it  true  of  the  unthinking  mobile  ;  that  the 
closer  they  shut  their  eyes,  the  wider  they  open  their  hands. 
But  this  base  trade  the  church  of  England  always  abhorred ; 
and  for  that  cause,  as  to  its  temporal  advantages,  has  fared 
accordingly  ;  and,  by  this  time,  may  be  thought  fit  for  another 
reformation. 

And  thus  I  have  shown  three  notable  ways  by  which  the 
philosophers  and  learned  men  amongst  the  Gentiles  held  the 
truth  in  unrighteousness  :  as  first,  That  they  did  not  practice 
up  to  it ;  2dly,  That  they  did  not  improve  it ;  and  3dly  and 
lastly,  That  they  concealed  and  dissembled  it.  And  this  was 
that  which  prepared  and  disposed  them  to  greater  enormities : 
for,  changing  the  truth  of  God  into  a  lie,  they  became  like  those 
who,  by  often  repeating  a  lie  to  others,  came  at  length  to  be 
lieve  it  themselves.  They  owned  the  idolatrous  worship  of 
God  so  long,  till,  by  degrees,  even  in  spite  of  reason  and  na 
ture,  they  thought  that  he  ought  so  to  be  worshiped.  But 
this  stopped  not  here :  for  as  one  wickedness  is  naturally  a 
step  and  introduction  to  another,  so,  from  absurd  and  sense 
less  devotions,  they  passed  into  vile  affections,  practicing  vices 
against  nature,  and  that  in  such  strange  and  abominable 


ROM.  i.  20.]  renders  a  Sinner  inexcusable.  387 

instances  of  sin,  that  nothing  could  equal  the  corruption 
of  their  manners  but  the  delusion  of  their  judgments ;  both 
of  them  the  true  and  proper  causes  of  one  another. 

The  consideration  of  which,  one  would  think,  should  make 
men  cautious  and  fearful  how  they  suppress  or  debauch  that 
spark  of  natural  light  which  God  has  set  up  in  their  souls. 
When  nature  is  in  the  dark,  it  will  venture  to  do  any  thing. 
And  God  knows  how  far  the  spirit  of  infatuation  may  prevail 
upon  the  heart,  when  it  comes  once  to  court  and  love  a 
delusion.  Some  men  hug  an  error,  because  it  gratifies  them 
in  a  freer  enjoyment  of  their  sensuality  :  and  for  that  reason, 
God  in  judgment  suffers  them  to  be  plunged  into  fouler  and 
grosser  errors,  such  as  even  unman  and  strip  them  of  the 
very  principles  of  reason  and  sober  discourse.  For  surely  it 
could  be  no  ordinary  declension  of  nature  that  could  bring 
some  men,  after  an  ingenuous  education  in  arts  and  philosophy, 
to  place  their  summum  bonum  upon  their  trenchers,  and  their 
utmost  felicity  in  wine  and  women,  and  those  lusts  and  pleas 
ures  which  a  swine  or  a  goat  has  as  full  and  quick  a  sense 
of  as  the  greatest  statesmen  or  the  best  philosopher  in  the 
world. 

Yet  this  was  the  custom,  this  the  known  voice  of  most  of 
the  Gentiles  ;  Dum  vivimus  vivamus  ;  Let  us  eat  and  drink  to 
day.,  for  to-morrow  we  must  die.  That  soul  which  God  had 
given  them,  comprehensive  of  both  worlds,  and  capable  of 
looking  into  the  great  mysteries  of  nature,  of  diving  into  the 
depths  beneath,  and  of  understanding  the  motions  and  influ 
ences  of  the  stars  above ;  even  this  glorious,  active  thing  did 
they  confine  within  the  pitiful  compass  of  the  present  frui 
tion,  forbidding  it  to  take  a  prospect  so  far  as  into  the  mor 
row  ;  as  if  to  think,  to  contemplate,  or  be  serious,  had  been 
high  treason  against  the  empire  and  prerogative  of  sense, 
usurping  the  throne  of  their  baffled  and  deposed  reason. 

And  how  comes  it  to  pass  that  even  nowadays  there  is 
often  seen  such  a  vast  difference  between  the  former  and  the 
latter  part  of  some  men's  lives  ?  that  those  who  first  stepped 
forth  into  the  world  with  high  and  promising  abilities,  vig 
orous  intellectuals,  and  clear  morals,  come  at  length  to  grow 
sots  and  epicures,  mean  in  their  discourses,  and  dirty  in  their 
practices  ;  but  that,  as  by  degrees,  they  remitted  of  their  in- 


388  Natural  Religion  without  Revelation       [SERM.  xix. 

dustry,  loathed  their  business,  and  gave  way  to  their  pleasures, 
they  let  fall  those  generous  principles  which  in  their  youth 
ful  days  had  borne  them  upon  the  wing,  and  raised  them  to 
worthy  and  great  thoughts ;  which  thoughts  and  principles 
not  being  kept  up  and  cherished,  but  smothered  in  sensual 
delights,  God,  for  that  cause,  suffered  them  to  flag  and  sink 
into  low  and  inglorious  satisfactions,  and  to  enjoy  themselves 
more  in  a  revel  or  a  merry-meeting,  a  strumpet  or  a  tavern, 
than  in  being  useful  to  a  church  or  a  nation,  in  being  a  public 
good  to  society,  and  a  benefit  to  mankind.  The  parts  that 
God  gave  them  they  held  in  unrighteousness,  sloth,  and  sen 
suality  ;  and  this  made  God  to  desert  and  abandon  them  to 
themselves ;  so  that  they  have  had  a  doting  and  a  decrepit 
reason  long  before  age  had  given  them  such  a  body. 

And  therefore  I  could  heartily  wish  that  such  young  per 
sons  as  hear  we  now  would  lodge  this  one  observation  deep 
in  their  minds  ;  viz.,  that  God  and  nature  have  joined  wisdom 
and  virtue  by  such  a  near  cognation,  or  rather  such  an  insep 
arable  connection,  that  a  wise,  a  prudent,  and  an  honorable 
old  age  is  seldom  or  never  found  but  as  the  reward  and  effect 
of  a  sober,  a  virtuous,  and  a  well-spent  youth. 

4.  I  descend  now  to  the  fourth  and  last  thing  proposed ; 
namely,  The  judgment,  or  rather  the  state  and  condition  pe 
nally  consequent  upon  the  persons  here  charged  by  the  apostle 
with  idolatry ;  which  is,  That  tlwy  were  without  excuse. 

After  the  commission  of  sin,  it  is  natural  for  the  sinner  to 
apprehend  himself  in  danger,  and,  upon  such  apprehension, 
to  provide  for  his  safety  and  defense ;  and  that  must  be  one 
of  these  two  ways  :  viz.,  either  by  pleading  his  innocence,  or 
by  using  his  power.  But  since  it  would  be  infinitely  in  vain 
for  a  finite  power  to  contend  with  an  infinite,  innocence,  if 
any  thing,  must  be  his  plea ;  and  that  must  be  either  by  an 
absolute  denial,  or,  at  least,  by  an  extenuation  or  diminution 
of  his  sin.  Though  indeed  this  course  will  be  found  alto 
gether  as  absurd  as  the  other  could  be ;  it  being  every  whit 
as  irrational  for  a  sinner  to  plead  his  innocence  before  om 
niscience,  as  it  would  be  to  oppose  his  power  to  omnipotence. 
However,  the  last  refuge  of  a  guilty  person  is  to  take  shelter 
under  an  excuse ;  and  so  to  mitigate,  if  he  can  not  divert,  the 
blow.  It  was  the  method  of  the  great  pattern  and  parent  of 


ROM.  i.  20.]  renders  a  Sinner  inexcusable.  389 

all  sinners,  Adam,  first  to  hide,  and  then  to  excuse  himself; 
to  wrap  the  apple  in  the  leaves,  and  to  give  his  case  a  gloss  at 
least,  though  not  a  defense.  But  now,  when  the  sinner  shall 
be  stripped  of  this  also,  have  all  his  excuses  blown  away,  be 
stabbed  with  his  own  arguments,  and,  as  it  were,  sacrificed 
upon  that  very  altar  which  he  fled  to  for  succor,  this  surely 
is  the  hight  and  crisis  of  a  forlorn  condition.  Yet  this  was 
the  case  of  the  malefactors  who  stand  here  arraigned  in  the 
text;  this  was  the  consummation  of  their  doom,  that  they 
were  persons,  not  only  unfit  for  a  pardon,  but  even  for  a  plea. 
Now  an  excuse,  in  the  nature  of  it,  imports  these  two 
things  : 

1.  The  supposition  of  a  sin. 

2.  The  extenuation  of  its  guilt. 

As  for  the  sin  itself,  we  have  already  heard  what  that  was, 
and  we  will  now  see  how  able  they  are  to  acquit  themselves 
in  point  of  its  extenuation.  In  which,  according  to  the  two 
grand  principles  of  human  actions  which  determine  their 
morality,  the  understanding  and  the  will,  the  excuse  must 
derive  either  from  ignorance  or  unwillingness. 

As  for  unwillingness,  (to  speak  of  this  last  first,)  the  heathen 
philosophers  generally  asserted  the  freedom  of  the  will,  and 
its  inviolable  dominion  over  its  own  actions ;  so  that  no  force 
or  coaction  from  without  could  intrench  upon  the  absolute 
empire  of  this  faculty. 

It  must  be  confessed  indeed,  that  it  hath  been  something 
lamed  in  this  its  freedom  by  original  sin  ;  of  which  defect  the 
heathens  themselves  were  not  wholly  ignorant,  though  they 
were  of  its  cause.  So  that  hereupon,  the  will  is  not  able  to 
carry  a  man  out  to  a  choice  so  perfectly,  and  in  all  respects 
good,  but  that  still  there  is  some  adherent  circumstance  of 
imperfection,  which,  in  strictness  of  morality,  renders  every 
action  of  it  evil ;  according  to  that  known  and  most  true  rule, 
Malum  ex  quolibet  defectu. 

Nevertheless,  the  will  has  still  so  much  freedom  left  as  to 
enable  it  to  choose  any  act  in  its  kind  good,  whether  it  be  an 
act  of  temperance,  justice,  or  the  like ;  as  also  to  refuse  any 
act  in  its  kind  evil,  whether  of  intemperance,  injustice,  or 
the  like ;  though  yet  it  neither  chooses  one,  nor  refuses  the 
other,  with  such  a  perfect  concurrence  of  all  due  ingredients 


390  Natural  Religion  witfwut  Revelation       [SERM.  xix. 

of  action,  but  that  still,  in  the  sight  of  God,  judging  accord 
ing  to  the  rigid  measures  of  the  law,  every  such  choice  or 
refusal  is  indeed  sinful  and  imperfect.  This  is  most  certain, 
whatsoever  Pelagius  and  his  brethren  assert  to  the  contrary. 

But  however,  that  measure  of  freedom  which  the  will  still 
retains,  of  being  able  to  choose  any  act  materially,  and  in  its 
kind  good,  and  to  refuse  the  contrary,  was  enough  to  cut  off 
all  excuse  from  the  heathen,  who  never  duly  improved  the 
utmost  of  such  a  power,  but  gave  themselves  up  to  all  the  fil- 
thiness  and  licentiousness  of  life  imaginable.  In  all  which  it 
is  certain  that  they  acted  willingly  and  without  compulsion, 
or  rather  indeed  greedily,  and  without  control. 

The  only  persons  amongst  the  heathens  who  sophisticated 
nature  and  philosophy  in  this  particular,  were  the  Stoics ; 
who  affirmed  a  fatal,  unchangeable  concatenation  of  causes, 
reaching  even  to  the  elicit  acts  of  man's  will.  So  that  ac 
cording  to  them  there  was  no  act  of  volition  exerted  by  it, 
but,  all  circumstances  considered,  it  was  impossible  for  the 
will  not  to  exert  that  volition.  But  these  were  but  one  sect 
of  philosophers ;  that  is,  but  a  handful  in  comparison  of  the 
rest  of  the  Gentiles  :  ridiculous  enough  for  what  they  held 
and  taught,  and  consequently  not  to  be  laid  in  the  balance 
with  the  united  judgment  of  all  other  learned  men  in  the 
world  unanimously  exploding  this  opinion.  Questionless 
therefore,  a  thing  so  deeply  engraven  upon  the  first  and  most 
inward  notions  of  man's  mind,  as  a  persuasion  of  the  will's 
freedom,  would  never  permit  the  heathens  (who  are  here 
charged  by  the  apostle)  to  patronize  and  excuse  their  sins 
upon  this  score,  that  they  committed  them  against  their  will, 
and  that  they  had  no  power  to  do  otherwise.  In  which,  every 
hour's  experience,  and  reflection  upon  the  method  of  their 
own  actings,  could  not  but  give  them  the  lie  to  their  face. 

The  only  remaining  plea  therefore,  which  these  men  can 
take  sanctuary  in,  must  be  that  of  ignorance ;  since  there 
could  be  no  pretense  for  unwillingness.  But  the  apostle  di 
vests  them  even  of  this  also :  for  he  says  expressly,  in  verse 
19,  that  what  might  be  known  of  God,  that  famous  and  so  much 
disputed  of  TO  yvworoi/  TOT)  ®eoi),  was  manifested  in  them  ;  and 
in  verse  21,  their  inexcusableness  is  stated  upon  the  supposi 
tion  of  this  very  thing,  that  they  knew  God,  but,  for  all  that, 


ROM.  i.  20.]  renders  a  Sinner  inexcusable.  391 

did  not  glorify  him  as  God.  This  was  the  sum  of  their  charge ; 
and  how  it  has  heen  made  good  against  them  we  have  already 
shown,  in  what  we  have  spoken  about  their  idolatry,  very 
briefly,  I  confess,  but  enough  to  show  its  absurdity,  though 
not  to  account  for  its  variety,  when  Vossius's  very  abridg 
ment  of  it  makes  a  thick  volume  in  folio. 

The  plea  of  ignorance  therefore  is  also  taken  out  of  their 
hands ;  forasmuch  as  they  knew  that  there  was  a  God  ;  and 
that  this  God  made  and  governed  the  world ;  and  upon  that 
account  was  to  be  worshiped  and  addressed  to  ;  and  that 
with  such  a  worship  as  should  be  agreeable  to  his  nature, 
both  in  respect  of  the  piety  and  virtue  of  the  worshiper,  and 
also  of  the  means  of  the  worship  itself.  So  that  he  was 
neither  to  be  worshiped  with  impious  and  immoral  practices, 
nor  with  corporeal  resemblances.  For  how  could  an  image 
help  men  in  directing  their  thoughts  to  a  Being  which  bore 
no  similitude  or  cognation  to  that  image  at  all  ?  And  what 
resemblance  could  wood  or  stone  bear  to  a  spirit  void  of  all 
sensible  qualities  and  bodily  dimensions  ?  How  could  they 
put  men  in  mind  of  infinite  power,  wisdom,  and  holiness,  and 
such  other  attributes,  of  which  they  had  not  the  least  mark  or 
character  ? 

But  now,  if  these  things  could  not  possibly  resemble  any 
perfection  of  the  Deity,  what  use  could  they  be  of  to  men  in 
their  addresses  to  God  ?  For  can  a  man's  devotions  be  helped 
by  that  which  brings  an  error  upon  his  thoughts  ?  And  cer 
tain  it  is,  that  it  is  natural  for  a  man,  by  directing  his  prayers 
to  an  image,  to  suppose  the  Being  he  prays  to  represented  by 
that  image.  Which  how  injurious,  how  contumelious  it  must 
needs  be  to  the  glorious,  incomprehensible  nature  of  God,  by 
begetting  such  false  and  low  apprehensions  of  him  in  the  minds 
of  his  creature,  let  common  sense,  not  perverted  by  interest 
and  design,  be  judge.  From  all  which  it  follows,  that  the 
idolatrous  heathens,  and  especially  the  most  learned  of  them, 
not  being  able  to  charge  their  idolatry  either  upon  ignorance 
or  unwillingness,  were  wholly  without  excuse.  So  that  it  is  to 
be  feared  that  Averroes  had  not  the  right  way  of  blessing 
himself,  when,  in  defiance  of  Christianity,  he  wished,  Sit  anima 
mea  cum  philosophis. 

And  now,  after  all,  I  can  not  but  take  notice,  that  all  that 


392  Natural  Religion  without  Revelation       [SERM.  xix. 

I  have  said  of  the  heathen  idolatry  is  so  exactly  applicable  to 
the  idolatry  of  another  sort  of  men  in  the  world,  that  one 
would  think  this  first  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans 
were  not  so  much  an  address  to  the  ancient  Romans,  as  a  de 
scription  of  the  modern. 

But  to  draw  towards  a  close.  The  use  and  improvement  of 
the  foregoing  discourse  shall  be  briefly  to  inform  us  of  these 
two  things : 

1st,  The  signally  great  and  peculiar  mercy  of  God  to  those 
to  whom  he  has  revealed  the  gospel,  since  there  was  nothing 
that  could  have  obliged  him  to  it  upon  the  account  of  his  jus 
tice  :  for  if  there  had,  the  heathens,  to  whom  he  revealed  it 
not,  could  not  have  been  thus  without  excuse,  but  might  very 
rationally  have  expostulated  the  case  with  their  great  Judge, 
and  demurred  to  the  equity  of  the  sentence,  had  they  been 
condemned  by  him.  But  it  appears  from  hence,  that  what 
was  sufficient  to  render  men  inexcusable,  was  not  therefore 
sufficient  to  save  them. 

It  is  not  said  by  the  apostle,  nor  can  it  be  proved  by  any 
one  else,  that  God  vouchsafed  to  the  heathens  the  means  of 
salvation,  if  so  be  the  gospel  be  the  only  means  of  it.  And 
yet  I  will  not,  I  dare  not  affirm,  that  God  will  save  none  of 
those  to  whom  the  sound  of  the  gospel  never  reached  :  though 
this  is  evident,  that  if  he  does  save  any  of  them,  it  must  not 
be  by  that  ordinary,  stated,  appointed  method,  which  the 
scripture  has  revealed  to  us,  and  which  they  were  wholly 
ignorant  of.  For  grant  that  the  heathens  knew  that  there 
was  a  God,  who  both  made  and  governed  the  world,  and  who, 
upon  that  account,  was  to  be  worshiped,  and  that  with  such 
a  worship  as  should  be  suitable  to  such  a  Being ;  yet  what 
principle  of  mere  reason  could  assure  them,  that  this  God 
would  be  a  rewarder  of  such  as  diligently  sought  and  served  him  ? 
For  certain  it  is  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of  God 
to  oblige  him  to  reward  any  service  of  his  creature ;  foras 
much  as  all  that  the  creature  can  do  is  but  duty ;  and  even 
now,  at  this  time,  God  has  no  other  obligation  upon  him  but 
his  own  free  promise  to  reward  the  piety  and  obedience  of  his 
servants ;  which  promise  reason  of  itself  could  never  have 
found  out,  till  God  made  it  known  by  revelation.  And  more 
over,  what  principle  of  reason  could  assure  a  man  that  God 


ROM.  i.  20.]  renders  a  Sinner  inexcusable.  393 

would  pardon  sinners  upon  any  terms  whatsoever  ?  Possibly 
it  might  know  that  God  could  do  so  ;  but  this  was  no  sufficient 
ground  for  men  to  depend  upon.  And  then,  last  of  all,  as  for 
the  way  of  his  pardoning  sinners,  that  he  should  do  it  upon  a 
satisfaction  paid  to  his  justice  by  such  a  Saviour  as  should  be 
both  God  and  man;  this  was  utterly  impossible  for  all  the 
reason  of  mankind  to  find  out. 

For  that  these  things  could  be  read  in  the  book  of  nature, 
or  the  common  works  of  God's  providence,  or  be  learned 
by  the  sun  and  moon's  preaching  the  gospel,  as  some  have 
fondly  (not  to  say  profanely)  enough  asserted,  it  is  infinitely 
sottish  to  imagine,  and  can  indeed  be  nothing  else  but  the 
turning  the  grace  of  God  into  wanton  and  unreasonable  prop 
ositions. 

It  is  clear  therefore,  that  the  heathens  had  no  knowledge 
of  that  way  by  which  alone  we  expect  salvation.  So  that  all 
the  hope  which  we  can  have  for  them  is,  that  the  gospel  may 
not  be  the  utmost  limit  of  the  divine  mercy ;  but  that  the 
merits  of  Christ  may  overflow,  and  run  over  the  pale  of  the 
church,  so  as  to  reach  even  many  of  those  who  lived  and  died 
invincibly  ignorant  of  him. 

But  whether  this  shall  be  so,  or  no,  God  alone  knows,  who 
only  is  privy  to  the  great  counsels  of  his  own  will.  It  is  a 
secret  hid  from  us ;  and  therefore,  though  we  may  hope 
compassionately,  yet  I  am  sure  we  can  pronounce  nothing 
certainly :  it  is  enough  for  us  that  God  has  asserted  his  jus 
tice,  even  in  his  dealing  with  those  whom  he  treats  not  upon 
terms  of  evangelical  mercy.  So  that  such  persons  can  neither 
excuse  themselves,  nor  yet  accuse  him ;  who,  in  the  severest 
sentence  that  he  can  pronounce  upon  the  sinner,  will  (as  the 
Psalmist  tells  us)  be  justified  when  he  speaks,  and  clear  when  he 
is  judged. 

2dly,  In  the  next  place,  we  gather  hence  the  unspeakably 
wretched  and  deplorable  condition  of  obstinate  sinners  under 
the  gospel.  The  sun  of  mercy  has  shined  too  long  and  too 
bright  upon  such,  to  leave  them  any  shadow  of  excuse.  For, 
let  them  argue  over  all  the  topics  of  divine  goodness  and 
human  weakness,  and  whatsoever  other  pretenses  poor  sink 
ing  sinners  are  apt  to  catch  at,  to  support  and  save  themselves 
by,  yet  how  trifling  must  be  their  plea !  how  impertinent  their 
defense ! 


394  Natural  Religion  without  Revelation          [SERM.  xix. 

For  admit  an  impenitent  heathen  to  plead,  that,  albeit  his 
conscience  told  him  that  he  had  sinned,  yet  it  could  not  tell 
him  that  there  was  any  provision  of  mercy  for  him  upon  his 
repentance.  He  knew  not  whether  amendment  of  life  would 
be  accepted,  after  the  law  was  once  broke  ;  or  that  there 
was  any  other  righteousness  to  atone  or  merit  for  him,  but 
his  own. 

But  no  Christian,  who  has  been  taken  into  the  arms  of  a 
better  covenant,  and  grown  up  in  the  knowledge  of  a  Saviour, 
and  the  doctrine  of  faith  and  repentance  from  dead  works, 
can  speak  so  much  as  one  plausible  word  for  his  impenitence. 
And  therefore  it  was  said  of  him  who  came  to  the  marriage- 
feast  without  a  wedding -garment,  that,  being  charged,  and  ap 
prehended  for  it,  e<£i//.<o#T7,  lie  was  speechless,  struck  with  shame 
and  silence,  the  proper  effects  of  an  overpowering  guilt,  too 
manifest  to  be  denied,  and  too  gross  to  be  defended.  His 
reason  deserted,  and  his  voice  failed  him,  finding  himself  ar 
raigned,  convicted,  and  condemned  in  the  court  of  his  own 
conscience. 

So  that  if,  after  all  this,  his  great  Judge  had  freely  asked 
him  what  he  could  allege  or  say  for  himself,  why  he  should 
not  have  judgment  to  die  eternally,  and  sentence  to  be 
awarded  according  to  the  utmost  rigors  of  the  law,  he  could 
not,  in  this  forlorn  case,  have  made  use  of  the  very  last  plea 
of  a  cast  criminal :  nor  so  much  as  have  cried,  Mercy,  Lord, 
mercy.  For  still  his  conscience  would  have  replied  upon  him, 
that  mercy  had  been  offered  and  abused ;  and  that  the  time 
of  mercy  was  now  past.  And  so,  under  this  overwhelming 
conviction,  every  gospel-sinner  must  pass  to  his  eternal  exe 
cution,  taking  the  whole  load  of  his  own  damnation  solely 
and  entirely  upon  himself,  and  acquitting  the  most  just  God, 
who  is  righteous  in  all  his  works,  and  holy  in  all  his  ways. 

To  whom,  therefore,  be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due, 
all  praise,  might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for 
evermore.  Amen. 


SERMON  XX. 


SACRAMENTAL   PREPARATION : 

SET  FORTH  IN  A  SERMON  PREACHED  AT  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY, 

APRIL  8,  1688 ;  BEING  PALM  SUNDAY. 


MATTHEW  xxii.  12.  —  And  he  saitk  unto  him,  Friend,  how  earnest  ihou  in  hither,  not 
having  a  wedding  -garment  ? 


whole  scheme  of  these  words  is  figurative,  as  being  a 
-*-  parabolical  description  of  God's  vouchsafing  to  the  world 
the  invaluable  blessing  of  the  gospel,  by  the  similitude  of  a 
king,  with  great  magnificence,  solemnizing  his  son's  marriage, 
and  with  equal  bounty  bidding  and  inviting  all  about  him  to 
that  royal  solemnity  ;  together  with  his  severe  animadversion, 
both  upon  those  who  would  not  come,  and  upon  one  who  did 
come  in  a  very  unbeseeming  manner. 

For  the  better  understanding  of  which  words,  we  must 
observe,  that  in  all  parables  two  things  are  to  be  considered  : 

First,  The  scope  and  design  of  the  parable  ;  and, 

Secondly,  The  circumstantial  passages,  serving  only  to  com 
plete  and  make  up  the  narration. 

Accordingly,  in  our  application  of  any  parable  to  the  thing 
designed  and  set  forth  by  it,  we  must  not  look  for  an  absolute 
and  exact  correspondence  of  all  the  circumstantial  or  sub 
servient  passages  of  the  metaphorical  part  of  it,  with  just 
so  many  of  the  same  or  the  like  passages  in  the  thing  in 
tended  by  it  ;  but  it  is  sufficient  that  there  be  a  certain  anal 
ogy  or  agreement  between  them,  as  to  the  principal  scope 
and  design  of  both. 

As  for  the  design  of  this  parable,  it  is,  no  doubt,  to  set 


396  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  [SKRM.  xx. 

forth  the  free  offer  of  the  gospel,  with  all  its  rich  privileges, 
to  the  Jewish  church  and  nation,  in  the  first  place ;  and  upon 
their  refusal  of  it,  and  God's  rejection  of  them  for  that  refusal, 
to  declare  the  calling  of  the  Gentiles  in  their  room,  by  a  free, 
unlimited  tender  of  the  gospel  to  all  nations  whatsoever; 
adding  withal  a  very  dreadful  and  severe  sentence  upon  those 
who,  being  so  freely  invited  and  so  generously  admitted  to 
such  high  and  undeserved  privileges,  should  nevertheless  abuse 
and  despise  them  by  an  unworthy,  wicked,  and  ungrateful  de 
portment  under  them. 

For  men  must  not  think  that  the  gospel  is  all  made  up  of 
privilege  and  promise,  but  that  there  is  something  of  duty  to 
be  performed,  as  well  as  of  privilege  to  be  enjoyed.  No  wel 
come  to  a  wedding-supper  without  a  wedding-garment ;  and 
no  coming  by  a  wedding-garment  for  nothing.  In  all  the 
transactions  between  God  and  the  souls  of  men,  something 
is  expected  on  both  sides;  there  being  a  fixed,  indissoluble, 
and  (in  the  language  of  the  parable)  a  kind  of  marriage- 
tie  between  duty  and  privilege,  which  renders  them  insepa 
rable. 

Now,  though  I  question  not  but  that  this  parable  of  the 
wedding-supper  comprehends  in  it  the  whole  complex  of  all 
the  blessings  and  privileges  exhibited  by  the  gospel,  yet  I 
conceive  that  there  is  one  principal  privilege  amongst  all  the 
rest,  that  it  seems  more  peculiarly  to  aim  at,  or  at  least  may 
more  appositely  and  emphatically  be  applied  to,  than  to  any 
other  whatsoever :  and  that  is  the  blessed  sacrament  of  the 
eucharist,  by  which  all  the  benefits  of  the  gospel  are  in  a 
higher,  fuller,  and  more  divine  manner  conveyed  to  the  faith 
ful,  than  by  any  other  duty  or  privilege  belonging  to  our  ex 
cellent  religion.  And  for  this  I  shall  offer  these  three  follow 
ing  reasons : 

1.  Because  the  foundation  of  all  parables  is,  as  we  have 
shown,  some  analogy  or  similitude  between  the  tropical  or 
allusive  part  of  the  parable,  and  the  thing  couched  under  it 
and  intended  by  it.  But  now,  of  all  the  benefits,  privileges, 
or  ordinances  of  the  gospel,  which  of  them  is  there  that  car 
ries  so  natural  a  resemblance  to  a  wedding-supper  as  that 
which  every  one  of  a  very  ordinary,  discerning  faculty  may 
observe  in  the  sacrament  of  the  eucharist  ?  For,  surely,  nei- 


MATT.  xxii.  12.]          Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  397 

tlier  the  preaching  of  the  word,  nor  yet  the  sacrament  of  bap 
tism,  bears  any  such  resemblance  or  affinity  to  it.  But,  on 
the  other  side,  this  sacrament  of  the  eucharist  so  lively  re 
sembles,  and  so  happily  falls  in  with  it,  that  it  is  indeed  it 
self  a  supper,  and  is  called  a  supper,  and  that  by  a  genuine, 
proper,  as  well  as  a  common  and  received  appellation. 

2.  This  sacrament  is  not  only  with  great  propriety  of  speech 
called  a  supper,  but  moreover,  as  it  is  the  grand  and  prime 
means  of  the  nearest  and  most  intimate  union  and  conjunction 
of  the  soul  with  Christ,  it  may,  with  a  peculiar  significancy, 
be  called  also  a  wedding-supper.  And  as  Christ  frequently 
in  scripture  owns  himself  related  to  the  church  as  a  hus 
band  to  a  spouse,  so,  if  these  nuptial  endearments,  by  which 
Christ  gives  himself  to  the  soul,  and  the  soul  mutually  gives 
itself  to  Christ,  pass  between  Christ  and  believers  in  any 
ordinance  of  the  gospel,  doubtless  it  is  most  eminently  and 
effectually  in  this :  which  is  another  pregnant  instance  of  the 
notable  resemblance  between  this  divine  sacrament  and  the 
wedding-supper  in  the  parable,  and  consequently  a  further 
argument  of  the  elegant  and  expressive  signification  of  one 
by  the  other. 

3dly  and  lastly,  The  very  manner  of  celebrating  this  sac 
rament,  which  is  by  the  breaking  of  bread,  was  the  way  and 
manner  of  transacting  marriages  in  some  of  the  eastern  coun 
tries.  Thus  Q.  Curtius  reports,  that  when  Alexander  the 
Great  married  the  Persian  Roxana,  the  ceremony  they  used 
was  no  other  but  this ;  panem  gladio  divisum  uterque  libabat ; 
he  divided  a  piece  of  bread  with  his  sword,  of  which  each  of 
them  took  a  part,  and  so  thereby  the  nuptial  rites  were  per 
formed.  Besides,  that  this  ceremony  of  feasting  belongs 
most  properly  both  to  marriage  and  to  the  eucharist,  as  both 
of  them  have  the  nature  of  a  covenant.  And  all  covenants 
were,  in  old  times,  solemnized  and  accompanied  with  festival 
eating  and  drinking;  the  persons  newly  confederate  always 
thereupon  feasting  together  in  token  of  their  full  and  perfect 
accord,  both  as  to  interest  and  affection. 

And  now  these  three  considerations  together,  so  exactly 
suiting  the  parable  of  the  wedding-supper  to  this  spiritual, 
divine  banquet  of  the  gospel,  if  it  does  not  primarily,  and  in 
its  first  design,  intend  it,  yet  certainly  it  may  with  greater 


398  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  [SERM.  xx. 

advantage  of  resemblance  be  applied  to  it  than  to  any  other 
duty  or  privilege  belonging  to  Christianity. 

Upon  the  warrant  of  which  so  very  particular  and  extraor 
dinary  a  cognation  between  them,  I  shall  at  present  treat 
of  the  words  wholly  with  reference  to  this  sacred  and  divine 
solemnity,  observing  and  gathering  from  them,  as  they  lie  in 
coherence  with  the  foregoing  and  following  parts  of  the  para 
ble,  these  two  propositions : 

1.  That  to  a  worthy  participation  of  the  holy  mysteries  and 
great  privileges  of  the   gospel,  and  particularly  that  of  the 
Lord's  supper,  there  is  indispensably  required  a  suitable  prep 
aration. 

2.  That  God  is  a  strict  observer  of,  and  a  severe  animad- 
verter  upon,  such  as  presume  to  partake  of  those  mysteries 
without  such  a  preparation. 

And  first,  for  the  first  of  these ;  viz.  That  to  a  worthy  par 
ticipation  of  the  holy  mysteries,  &c. 

Now  this  proposition  imports  in  it  two  things  : 

1.  That  to  a  right  discharge  of  this  duty  a  preparation  is 
necessary. 

2.  That  every  preparation  is  not  sufficient.     And  first,  for 
the 

First  of  these  :  That  a  preparation  is  necessary.  And  this, 
I  confess,  is  a  subject  which  I  am  heartily  sorry  that  any 
preacher  should  find  it  needful  to  speak  so  much  as  one  word 
upon.  For  would  any  man  in  his  wits  venture  to  die  without 
preparation  ?  And  if  not,  let  me  tell  you  that  nothing  less 
than  that  which  will  fit  a  man  for  death,  can  fit  him  for  the 
sacrament.  The  truth  is,  there  is  nothing  great  or  consider 
able  in  the  world,  which  ought  to  be  done,  or  ventured  upon, 
without  preparation ;  but,  above  all,  how  dangerous,  sottish, 
and  irrational  is  it,  to  engage  in  any  thing  or  action  extem 
pore,  where  the  concern  is  eternity  ! 

None  but  the  careless  and  the  confident  (and  few  are  con 
fident  but  what  are  first  careless)  would  rush  rudely  into  the 
presence  of  a  great  man  :  and  shall  we,  in  our  applications  to 
the  great  God,  take  that  to  be  religion  which  the  common 
reason  of  mankind  will  not  allow  to  be  manners  ?  The  very 
rules  of  worldly  civility  might  instruct  men  how  to  order 
their  addresses  to  God.  For  who,  that  is  to  appear  before 


MATT.  xxii.  12.]          Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  399 

his  prince  or  patron,  would  not  view  and  review  himself  over 
and  over,  with  all  imaginable  care  and  solicitude,  that  there 
be  nothing-  justly  offensive  in  his  habit,  language,  or  be 
havior  ?  But  especially,  if  he  be  vouchsafed  the  honor  of  his 
table,  it  would  be  infinitely  more  absurd  and  shameful  to  ap 
pear  foul  and  sordid  there,  and  in  the  dress  of  the  kitchen 
receive  the  entertainments  of  the  parlor. 

What  previous  cleansings  and  consecrations,  and  what  pe 
culiar  vestments  were  the  priests,  under  the  law,  enjoined  to 
use,  when  they  were  to  appear  before  God  in  the  sanctuary  ! 
And  all  this  upon  no  less  a  penalty  than  death.  This  and 
this  they  were  to  do,  lest  they  died,  lest  God  should  strike 
them  dead  upon  the  spot ;  as  we  read  in  Levit.  viii.  35,  and 
in  many  other  places  in  the  books  of  Moses.  And  so  exact 
were  the  Jews  in  their  preparations  for  the  solemn  times  of 

God's  worship,  that  every  (rd(3/3arov  had    its  7rpocra.ppa.TOV  or  Trap- 

aovcev>),  that  is,  a  part  of  the  sixth  day,  from  the  hour  of  six  in 
the  evening,  to  fit  them  for  the  duties  of  the  seventh  day : 
nor  was  this  all ;  but  they  had  also  a  irpo-apaa-Kevr),  beginning 
about  three  in  the  afternoon,  to  prepare  them  for  that :  and 
indeed  the  whole  day  was,  in  a  manner,  but  preparative  to 
the  next;  several  works  being  disallowed  and  forborne  amongst 
them  on  that  day,  which  were  not  so  upon  any  of  the  fore 
going  five  :  so  careful,  even  to  scrupulosity,  were  they  to  keep 
their  sabbath  with  due  reverence  and  devotion,  that  they 
must  not  only  have  a  time  to  prepare  them  for  that,  but  a 
further  time  also  to  prepare  them  for  their  very  preparations. 

Nay,  and  the  heathens,  (many  of  them  at  least,)  when  they 
were  to  sacrifice  to  their  greatest  and  most  revered  deities, 
used,  on  the  evening  before,  to  have  a  certain  preparative  rite 
or  ceremony,  called  by  them  coena  pura ;  that  is,  a  supper, 
consisting  of  some  peculiar  meats,  in  which  they  imagined  a 
kind  of  holiness  ;  and  by  eating  of  which  they  thought  them 
selves  sanctified,  and  fitted  to  officiate  about  the  mysteries  of 
the  ensuing  festival.  And  what  were  all  their  lustrations 
but  so  many  solemn  purifyings,  to  render  both  themselves  and 
their  sacrifices  acceptable  to  their  gods  ? 

So  that  we  see  here  a  concurrence  both  of  the  Jews  and 
heathens  in  this  practice,  before  Christianity  ever  appeared : 
which  to  me  is  a  kind  of  demonstration  that  the  necessity  of 


400  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  [SERM.  xx. 

men's  preparing  themselves  for  the  sacred  offices  of  religion 
was  a  lesson  which  the  mere  light  and  dictates  of  common 
reason,  without  the  help  of  revelation,  taught  all  the  knowing 
and  intelligent  part  of  the  world. 

/  will  wash  my  hands  in  innocency,  says  David,  and  so  will 
I  compass  thine  altar,  Psalm  xxvi.  6.  And  as  the  apostle  told 
the  Hebrews,  Heb.  xiii.  10,  We  also,  we  Christians,  have  an 
altar  as  well  as  they ;  an  altar  as  sacred,  an  altar  to  be  ap 
proached  with  as  much  awe  and  reverence  ;  and  though  there 
be  no  fire,  upon  it,  yet  there  is  a  dreadful  one  that  follows  it ; 
a  fire,  that  does  not  indeed  consume  the  offering,  but  such 
an  one  as  will  be  sure  to  seize  and  prey  upon  the  unworthy 
offerer.  I  will  be  sanctified,  says  God,  in  them  that  come  nigh 
me,  Levit.  x.  3.  And  God  then  accounts  himself  sanctified  in 
such  persons,  when  they  sanctify  themselves.  Nadab  and 
Abihu  were  a  dreadful  exposition  of  this  text. 

And  for  what  concerns  ourselves ;  he  that  shall  thoroughly 
consider  what  the  heart  of  man  is,  what  sin  and  the  world  is, 
and  what  it  is  to  approve  one's  self  to  an  all-searching  eye,  in 
so  sublime  a  duty  as  the  sacrament,  must  acknowledge  that  a 
man  may  as  well  go  about  it  without  a  soul,  as  without  prep 
aration. 

For  the  holiest  man  living,  by  conversing  with  the  world, 
insensibly  draws  something  of  soil  and  taint  from  it :  the  very 
air  and  mien,  the  way  and  business  of  the  world,  still,  as  it 
were,  rubbing  something  upon  the  soul,  which  must  be 
fetched  off  again,  before  it  can  be  able  heartily  to  converse 
with  God.  Many  secret  indispositions,  coldnesses,  and  aver 
sions  to  duty  will  undiscernibly  steal  upon  it ;  and  it  will 
require  both  time  and  close  application  of  mind  to  recover  it 
to  such  a  frame  as  shall  dispose  and  fit  it  for  the  spiritualities 
of  religion. 

And  such  as  have  made  trial  find  it  neither  so  easy  nor  so 
ready  a  passage  from  the  noise,  the  din,  and  hurry  of  business 
to  the  retirements  of  devotion,  from  the  exchange  to  the 
closet,  and  from  the  freedoms  of  conversation  to  the  recollec 
tions  and  disciplines  of  the  spirit. 

The  Jews,  as  soon  as  they  came  from  markets,  or  any  other 
such  promiscuous  resorts,  would  be  sure  to  use  accurate  and 
more  than  ordinary  washings.  And  had  their  washings 


MATT.  xxii.  12.]          Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  401 

soaked  through  the  body  into  the  soul,  and  had  not  their 
inside  reproached  their  outside,  I  see  nothing  in  this  custom 
hut  what  was  allowable  enough,  and  (in  a  people  which  needed 
washing  so  much)  very  commendable.  Nevertheless,  whatso 
ever  it  might  have  in  it  peculiar  to  the  genius  of  that  nation, 
the  spiritual  use  and  improvement  of  it,  I  am  sure,  may  very 
well  reach  the  best  of  us.  So  that  if  the  Jews  thought  this 
practice  requisite  before  they  sat  down  to  their  own  tables, 
let  us  Christians  think  it  absolutely  necessary,  when  we  come 
to  God's  table,  not  to  eat  till  we  have  washed.  And  when  I 
have  said  so,  I  suppose  I  need  not  add,  that  our  washing  is 
to  be  like  our  eating,  both  of  them  spiritual ;  that  we  are  to 
carry  it  from  the  hand  to  the  heart,  to  improve  a  ceremonial 
nicety  into  a  substantial  duty,  and  the  modes  of  civility  into 
the  realities  of  religion. 

And  thus  much  for  the  first  thing,  that  a  preparation  in 
general  is  necessary.  But  then,  2dly,  the  other  thing  im 
ported  in  the  proposition  is,  That  every  preparation  is  not 
sufficient.  It  must  be  a  suitable  preparation ;  none  but  a 
wedding-garment  will  serve  the  turn ;  a  garment  as  much 
fitted  to  the  solemnity  as  to  the  body  itself  that  wears  it. 

Now  all  fitness  lies  in  a  particular  commensuration,  or  pro 
portion  of  one  thing  to  another ;  and  that  such  an  one  as  is 
founded  in  the  very  nature  of  things  themselves,  and  not  in 
the  opinions  of  men  concerning  them.  And  for  this  cause  it 
is  that  the  soul,  no  less  than  the  body,  must  have  its  several 
distinct  postures  and  dispositions,  fitting  it  for  several  distinct 
offices  and  performances.  And  as  no  man  comes  with  folded 
arms  to  fight  or  wrestle,  nor  prepares  himself  for  the  battle  as 
he  would  compose  himself  to  sleep,  so,  upon  a  true  estimate 
of  things,  it  will  be  found  every  whit  as  absurd  and  irrational 
for  a  man  to  discharge  the  most  extraordinary  duty  of  his  re 
ligion  at  the  rate  of  an  ordinary  devotion.  For  this  is  really 
a  paradox  in  practice,  and  men  may  sometimes  do,  as  well  as 
speak,  contradictions. 

There  is  a  great  festival  now  drawing  on ;  a  festival  de 
signed  chiefly  for  the  acts  of  a  joyful  piety,  but  generally  made 
only  an  occasion  of  bravery.  I  shall  say  no  more  of  it  at 
present,  but  this ;  that  God  expects  from  men  something  more 
than  ordinary  at  such  times,  and  that  it  were  much  to  be 

VOL.  i.  26 


402  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  [SERM.  xx. 

wished,  for  the  credit  of  their  religion,  as  well  as  the  satis 
faction  of  their  consciences,  that  their  Easter  devotions  would, 
in  some  measure  come  up  to  their  Easter  dress. 

Now  that  our  preparation  may  answer  the  important  work 
and  duty  which  we  are  to  engage  in,  these  two  conditions,  or 
qualifications,  are  required  in  it. 

1.  That  it  be  habitual. 

2.  That  it  be  also  actual. 

For  it  is  certain  that  there  may  both  be  acts  which  proceed 
not  from  any  preexisting  habits ;  and,  on  the  other  side, 
habits  which  lie  for  a  time  dormant,  and  do  not  at  all  exert 
themselves  in  action.  But  in  the  case  now  before  us,  there 
must  be  a  conjunction  of  both ;  and  one  without  the  other 
can  never  be  effectual  for  that  purpose  for  which  both  to 
gether  are  but  sufficient.  And, 

First,  For  habitual  preparation.  This  consists  in  a  stand 
ing,  "permanent  habit,  or  principle  of  holiness,  wrought  chiefly 
by  God's  Spirit,  and  instrumentally  by  his  word,  in  the  heart 
or  soul  of  man :  such  a  principle  as  is  called,  both  by  our 
Saviour  and  his  apostles,  the  new  birth,  the  new  man,  the  im 
mortal  seed,  and  the  like ;  and  by  which  a  man  is  so  universally 
changed  and  transformed  in  the  whole  frame  and  temper  of 
his  soul,  as  to  have  a  new  judgment  and  sense  of  things,  new 
desires,  new  appetites  and  inclinations. 

And  this  is  first  produced  in  him  by  that  mighty  spiritual 
change  which  we  call  conversion  :  which,  being  so  rarely  and 
seldom  found  in  the  hearts  of  men,  (even  where  it  is  most 
pretended  to,)  is  but  too  full  and  sad  a  demonstration  of  the 
truth  of  that  terrible  saying,  That  few  are  chosen,  and  con 
sequently,  but  few  saved.  For  who  almost  is  there,  of  whom 
we  can  with  any  rational  assurance,  or  perhaps  so  much  as 
likelihood,  affirm,  Here  is  a  man,  whose  nature  is  renewed, 
whose  heart  is  changed,  and  the  stream  of  whose  appetites 
is  so  turned,  that  he  does  with  as  high  and  quick  a  relish 
taste  the  ways  of  duty,  holiness,  and  strict  living,  as  others, 
or  as  he  himself  before  this,  grasped  at  the  most  enamor- 
ing  proposals  of  sin  ;  who  almost,  I  say,  is  there,  who  can 
reach  and  verify  the  hight  of  this  character  ?  and  yet,  with 
out  which,  the  scripture  absolutely  affirms,  that  a  man  can 
not  see  the  kingdom  of  God,  John  iii.  3.  For,  let  preachers  say 


MATT.  xxii.  12.]  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  403 

and  suggest  what  they  will,  men  will  do  as  they  use  to  do ; 
and  custom  generally  is  too  hard  for  conscience,  in  spite  of 
all  its  convictions.  Possibly  sometimes  in  hearing  or  reading 
the  word,  the  conscience  may  he  alarmed,  the  affections 
warmed,  good  desires  begin  to  kindle,  and  to  form  themselves 
into  some  degrees  of  resolution ;  but  the  heart  remaining  all 
the  time  unchanged,  as  soon  as  men  slide  into  the  common 
course  and  converse  of  the  world,  all  those  resolutions  and 
convictions  quickly  cool  and  languish,  and  after  a  few  days 
are  dismissed  as  troublesome  companions.  But  assuredly  no 
man  was  ever  made  a  true  convert,  or  a  new  creature,  at  so 
easy  a  rate ;  sin  was  never  dispossessed,  nor  holiness  intro 
duced,  by  such  feeble,  vanishing  impressions.  Nothing  under 
a  total,  thorough  change  will  suffice ;  neither  tears,  nor 
trouble  of  mind,  neither  good  desires  nor  intentions,  nor  yet 
the  relinquishment  of  some  sins,  nor  the  performance  of 
some  good  works  will  avail  any  thing,  but  a  new  creature :  a 
word  that  comprehends  more  in  it  than  words  can  well  ex 
press  ;  and  perhaps,  after  all  that  can  be  said  of  it,  never 
thoroughly  to  be  understood  by  what  a  man  hears  from  others, 
but  by  what  he  must  feel  within  himself. 

And  now,  that  this  is  required  as  the  groundwork  of  all 
our  preparations  for  the  sacrament,  is  evident  from  hence  i 
because  this  sacrament  is  not  first  designed  to  make  us  holy, 
but  rather  supposes  us  to  be  so  ;  it  is  not  a  converting,  but  a 
confirming  ordinance  :  it  is  properly  our  spiritual  food.  And, 
as  all  food  presupposes  a  principle  of  life  in  him  who  receives 
it,  which  life  is,  by  this  means,  to  be  continued  and  sup 
ported,  so  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  supper  is  originally 
intended  to  preserve  and  maintain  that  spiritual  life  which  we 
do  or  should  receive  in  baptism,  or  at  least  by  a  thorough 
conversion  after  it.  Upon  which  account,  according  to  the 
true  nature  and  intent  of  this  sacrament,  men  should  not 
expect  life,  but  growth  from  it :  and  see  that  there  be  some 
thing  to  be  fed,  before  they  seek  out  for  provision.  For  the 
truth  is,  for  any  one  who  is  not  passed  from  death  to  life,  and 
has  not  in  him  that  new  living  principle  which  we  have  been 
hitherto  speaking  of,  to  come  to  this  spiritual  repast,  is  upon 
the  matter  as  absurd  and  preposterous  as  if  he  who  makes  a 
feast  should  send  to  the  graves  and  the  churchyards  for  guests, 
or  entertain  and  treat  a  corpse  at  a  banquet. 


404  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  [SERM.  xx. 

Let  men  therefore  consider,  before  they  come  hither, 
whether  they  have  any  thing  besides  the  name  they  received 
in  baptism  to  prove  their  Christianity  by.  Let  them  consider 
whether,  as  by  their  baptism  they  formerly  washed  away 
their  original  guilt,  so  they  have  not  since,  by  their  actual 
sins,  washed  away  their  baptism.  And,  if  so,  whether  the 
converting  grace  of  God  has  set  them  upon  their  legs  again, 
by  forming  in  them  a  new  nature.  And  that  such  an  one 
as  exerts  and  shows  itself  by  the  sure,  .infallible  effects  of  a 
good  life  :  such  an  one,  as  enables  them  to  reject  and  trample 
upon  all  the  alluring  offers  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the 
devil,  so  as  not  to  be  conquered  or  enslaved  by  them ;  and  to 
choose  the  hard  and  rugged  paths  of  duty,  rather  than  the 
easy  and  voluptuous  ways  of  sin :  which  every  Christian,  by 
the  very  nature  of  his  religion,  as  well  as  by  his  baptismal 
vow,  is  strictly  obliged  to  do  :  and  if,  upon  an  impartial  survey 
of  themselves,  men  find  that  no  such  change  has  passed  upon 
them,  either  let  them  prove  that  they  may  be  Christians  upon 
easier  terms,  or  have  a  care  how  they  intrude  upon  so  great 
and  holy  an  ordinance,  in  which  God  is  so  seldom  mocked  but 
it  is  to  the  mocker's  confusion.  And  thus  much  for  habitual 
preparation.  But, 

2dly,  Over  and  above  this,  there  is  required  also  an  actual 
preparation ;  which  is,  as  it  were,  the  furbishing  or  rubbing 
up  of  the  former  habitual  principle. 

We  have  both  of  them  excellently  described  in  Matt.  xxv. 
in  the  parable  of  the  ten  virgins ;  of  which  the  five  wise 
are  said  to  have  had  oil  in  their  lamps  ;  yet,  notwithstanding 
that,  midnight  and  weariness  was  too  hard  for  them,  and  they 
all  slumbered  and  slept,  and  their  lamps  cast  but  a  dim  and  a 
feeble  light  till  the  bridegroom's  approach;  but  then,  upon 
the  first  alarm  of  that,  they  quickly  rose,  and  trimmed  their 
lamps,  and  without  either  trimming  or  painting  themselves, 
(being  as  much  too  wise  as  some  should  be  too  old  for  such 
follies,)  they  presently  put  themselves  into  a  readiness  to 
receive  their  surprising  guest.  Where,  by  their  having  oil 
in  their  lamps,  no  doubt,  must  be  understood  a  principle  of 
grace  infused  into  their  hearts,  or  the  new  nature  formed 
within  them  ;  and,  by  their  trimming  their  lamps,  must  be 
meant  their  actual  exercise  and  improvement  of  that  standing 


MATT.  xxii.  12.]          Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  405 

£ 
principle,  in  the  particular  instances  of  duty  suitable  and  ap-* 

propriate  to  the  grand  solemnity  of  the  bridegroom's  recep 
tion.  In  like  manner,  when  a  man  comes  to  this  sacrament, 
it  is  not  enough  that  he  has  an  habitual  stock  of  grace,  that 
he  has  the  immortal  seed  of  a  living  faith  sown  in  his  heart. 
This  indeed  is  necessary,  but  not  sufficient ;  his  faith  must  be, 
not  only  living,  but  lively  too ;  it  must  be  brightened  and 
stirred  up,  and,  as  it  were,  put  into  a  posture  by  a  particular 
exercise  of  those  several  virtues  that  are  specifically  requisite 
to  a  due  performance  of  this  duty :  habitual  grace  is  the  life, 
and  actual  grace  the  beauty  and  ornament  of  the  soul ;  and 
therefore,  let  people  in  this  high  and  great  concern  be  but  so 
just  to  their  souls  as,  in  one  much  less,  they  never  fail  to  be 
to  their  bodies ;  in  which  the  greatest  advantages  of  natural 
beauty  make  none  think  the  further  advantage  of  a  decent 
dress  superfluous. 

Nor  is  it  at  all  strange,  if  we  look  into  the  reason  of  things, 
that  a  man  habitually  good  and  pious  should,  at  some  certain 
turns  and  times  of  his  life,  be  at  a  loss  how  to  exert  the  high 
est  acts  of  that  habitual  principle.  For  no  creature  is  per 
fect  and  pure  in  act ;  especially  a  creature  so  compounded  of 
soul  and  body,  that  body  seems  much  the  stronger  part  in  the 
composition. 

Common  experience  shows  that  the  wisest  of  men  are  not 
always  fit  and  disposed  to  act  wisely,  nor  the  most  admired 
speakers  to  speak  eloquently  and  exactly.  They  have  indeed 
an  acquired,  standing  ability  of  wisdom  and  eloquence  within 
them,  which  gives  them  an  habitual  sufficiency  for  such  per 
formances.  But,  for  all  that,  if  the  deepest  statesman  should 
presume  to  go  to  council  immediately  from  his  cups,  or  the 
ablest  preacher  think  himself  fitted  to  preach,  only  by  stepping 
up  to  the  pulpit,  notwithstanding  the  policy  of  the  one,  and 
the  eloquence  of  the  other,  they  may  chance  to  get  the  just 
character  of  bold  fools  for  venturing,  whatsoever  good  fortune 
may  bring  them  oft*. 

And  therefore  the  most  active  powers  and  faculties  of  the 
mind  require  something  besides  themselves,  to  raise  them  to 
the  full  hight  of  their  natural  activity  ;  something  to  excite 
and  quicken,  and  draw  them  forth  into  immediate  action. 
And  this  holds  proportionably  in  all  things,  animate  or  inani- 


406  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  [SERM.  xx. 

i*v 

mate,  in  the  world.  The  bare  nature  and  essential  form  of 
fire  will  enable  it  to  burn ;  but  there  must  be  an  enlivening 
breath  of  air  besides,  to  make  it  flame.  A  man  has  the  same 
strength,  sleeping  and  waking;  but  while  he  sleeps,  it  fits  him 
no  more  for  business  than  if  he  had  none.  Nor  is  it  the  hav 
ing  of  wheels  and  springs,  though  never  so  curiously  wrought 
and  artificially  set,  but  the  winding  of  them  up,  that  must 
give  motion  to  the  watch.  And  it  would  be  endless  to  illus 
trate  this  subject  by  all  the  various  instances  that  art  and 
nature  could  supply  us  with. 

But  the  case  is  much  the  same  in  spirituals :  for  grace  in 
the  soul,  while  the  soul  is  in  the  body,  will  always  have  the 
ill  neighborhood  of  some  remainders  of  corruption ;  which, 
though  they  do  not  conquer  and  extinguish,  yet  will  be  sure 
to  slacken  and  allay  the  vigor  and  briskness  of  the  renewed 
principle ;  so  that  when  this  principle  is  to  engage  in  any 
great  duty,  it  will  need  the  actual  intention,  the  particular 
stress  and  application  of  the  whole  soul,  to  disencumber  and 
set  it  free,  to  scour  off  its  rust,  and  remove  those  hinderances 
which  would  otherwise  clog  and  check  the  freedom  of  its 
operations. 

And  thus  having  shown,  that  to  fit  us  for  a  due  access  to 
the  holy  sacrament,  we  must  add  actual  preparation  to  ha 
bitual,  I  shall  now  endeavor  to  show  the  several  parts  or  ingre 
dients  of  which  this  actual  preparation  must  consist. 

And  here  I  shall  not  pretend  to  give  an  account  of  every 
particular  duty  that  may  be  useful  for  this  purpose,  but  shall 
only  mention  some  of  the  principal,  and  such  as  may  most 
peculiarly  contribute  towards  it  :  as, 

First,  Let  a  man  apply  himself  to  the  great  and  difficult 
work  of  self-examination  by  a  strict  scrutiny  into,  and  survey 
of,  the  whole  estate  of  his  soul,  according  to  that  known  and 
excellent  rule  of  the  apostle,  in  the  very  case  now  before  us, 
1  Cor.  xi.  28,  Let  a  man  examine  himself,  and  so  let  him  eat  of 
that  bread,  &c.  If  a  man  would  have  such  a  wedding-garnfent 
as  may  fit  him  exactly,  let  self-examination  take  the  measure, 
a  duty  of  so  mighty  an  influence  upon  all  that  concerns  the 
soul,  that  it  is  indeed  the  very  root  and  groundwork  of  all 
true  repentance,  and  the  necessary  antecedent,  if  not  also  the 
direct  cause,  of  a  sinner's  return  to  God. 


MATT.  xxii.  12.]  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  407 

For,  as  there  are  some  sins  which  require  a  particular  and 
distinct  repentance  by  themselves,  and  can  not  be  accounted 
for  in  the  general  heap  of  sins  known  and  unknown,  so,  how 
is  it  possible  for  a  man  to  repent  rightly  of  such  sins,  unless, 
by  a  thorough  search  into, the  nature,  number,  and  distin 
guishing  circumstances  of  them,  he  comes  to  see  how,  and  in 
what  degree,  they  are  to  be  repented  of? 

But  the  sovereign  excellency  and  necessity  of  this  duty 
needs  no  other  nor  greater  proof  of  it,  than  this  one  consid 
eration,  That  nothing  in  nature  can  be  more  grievous  and 
offensive  to  a  sinner  than  to  look  into  himself;  and  generally 
what  grace  requires,  nature  is  most  averse  to.  It  is  indeed 
as  offensive  as  to  rake  into  a  dunghill ;  as  grievous,  as  for  one 
to  read  over  his  debts,  when  he  is  not  able  to  pay  them ;  or 
for  a  bankrupt  to  examine  and  look  into  his  accounts,  which 
at  the  same  time  that  they  acquaint,  must  needs  also  upbraid 
him  with  his  condition. 

But  as  irksome  as  the  work  is,  it  is  absolutely  necessary. 
Nothing  can  well  be  imagined  more  painful  than  to  probe 
and  search  a  purulent  old  sore  to  the  bottom  ;  but  for  all  that 
the  pain  must  be  endured,  or  no  cure  expected.  And  men 
certainly  have  sunk  their  reason  to  the  very  gross,  low,  and 
absurd  conceptions  of  God,  when  in  the  matter  of  sin  they 
can  make  such  false  and  short  reckonings  with  him  and  their 
own  hearts ;  for  can  they  imagine  that  God  has  therefore 
forgot  their  sins,  because  they  are  not  willing  to  remember 
them  ?  or  will  they  measure  his  pardon  by  their  own  oblivion  ? 
What  pitiful  fig-leaves,  what  senseless  and  ridiculous  shifts 
are  these,  not  able  to  silence,  and  much  less  satisfy,  an  accus 
ing  conscience  ! 

But  now  for  the  better  management  of  this  examination  of 
our  past  lives,  we  must  thoroughly  canvass  them  with  these 
and  the  like  questions. 

As  for  instance ;  let  a  man  inquire  what  sins  he  has  com 
mitted,  and  what  breaches  he  has  made  upon  those  two  great 
standing  rules  of  duty,  the  decalogue,  and  our  Saviour's 
divine  sermon  upon  the  mount.  Let  him  inquire  also  what 
particular  aggravations  lie  upon  his  sins ;  as,  whether  they 
have  not  been  committed  against  strong  reluctancy  and  light 
of  conscience  ?  after  many  winning  calls  of  mercy  to  reclaim, 


408  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  [SERM.  xx. 

and  many  terrible  warning's  of  judgment  to  affright  him  ? 
Whether  resolutions,  vows,  and  protestations  have  not  been 
made  against  them  ?  Whether  they  have  not  been  repeated 
frequently,  and  persisted  in  obstinately  ?  And  lastly,  whether 
the  same  appetites  to  sin  have  not  remained  as  active  and  un- 
mortified  after  sacraments,  as  ever  they  had  been  before  ? 

How  important  these  considerations  and  heads  of  inquiry 
are,  all  who  understand  any  thing  will  easily  perceive.  For 
this  we  must  know,  that  the  very  same  sin,  as  to  the  nature 
of  it,  stamped  with  any  one  of  these  aggravations,  is,  in  effect, 
not  the  same.  And  he  who  has  sinned  the  same  great  sin, 
after  several  times  receiving  the  sacrament,  must  not  think 
that  God  will  accept  him  under  ten  times  greater  repentance 
and  contrition  for  it  than  he  brought  with  him  to  that  duty 
formerly.  Whether  God,  by  his  grace,  will  enable  him  to 
rise  up  to  such  a  pitch,  or  no,  is  uncertain  ;  but  most  certain, 
that  both  his  work  is  harder,  and  his  danger  greater,  than  it 
was  or  could  be  at  the  first. 

Secondly,  When  a  man  has,  by  such  a  close  and  rigorous 
examination  of  himself,  found  out  the  accursed  thing,  and  dis 
covered  his  sin,  the  next  thing  in  order  must  be,  to  work  up 
his  heart  to  the  utmost  hatred  of  it,  and  the  bitterest  sorrow 
and  remorse  for  it.  For  self-examination  having  first  pre 
sented  it  to  the  thoughts,  these  naturally  transmit  and  hand  it 
over  to  the  passions.  And  this  introduces  the  next  ingredient 
of  our  sacramental  preparations,  to  wit,  repentance.  Which 
arduous  work  I  will  suppose  not  now  to  begin,  but  to  be  re 
newed  ;  and  that  with  special  reference  to  sins  not  repented 
of  before ;  and  yet  more  especially  to  those  new  scores  which 
we  still  run  ourselves  upon  since  the  last  preceding  sacra 
ment.  Which  method,  faithfully  and  constantly  observed, 
must  needs  have  an  admirable  and  mighty  effect  upon  the 
conscience,  and  keep  a  man  from  breaking,  or  running  be 
hindhand  in  his  spiritual  estate,  which,  without  frequent  ac 
countings,  he  will  hardly  be  able  to  prevent. 

But,  because  this  is  a  duty  of  such  high  consequence,  I 
would  by  all  means  warn  men  of  one  very  common,  and  yet 
very  dangerous  mistake  about  it ;  and  that  is,  the  taking  of 
mere  sorrow  for  sin  for  repentance.  It  is  indeed  a  good 
introduction  to  it ;  but  the  porch,  though  never  so  fair  and 


MATT.  xxii.  12.]         Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  409 

spacious,  is  not  the  house  itself.  Nothing  passes  in  the 
accounts  of  God  for  repentance,  hut  change  of  life :  ceasing 
to  do  evil,  and  doing  good,  are  the  two  great  integral  parts 
that  complete  this  duty.  For  not  to  do  evil  is  much  hetter 
than  the  sharpest  sorrow  for  having  done  it ;  and  to  do  good 
is  better  and  more  valuable  than  both. 

When  a  man  has  found  out  sin  in  his  actions,  let  him  res 
olutely  arrest  it  there ;  but  let  him  also  pursue  it  home  to  his 
inclinations,  and  dislodge  it  thence ;  otherwise  it  will  be  all 
to  little  purpose  ;  for  the  root  being  still  left  behind,  it  is  odds 
but  in  time  it  will  shoot  out  again. 

Men  befool  themselves  infinitely,  when,  by  venting  a  few 
sighs  or  groans,  putting  the  finger  in  the  eye,  and  whimper 
ing  out  a  few  melancholy  words ;  and  lastly,  concluding  all 
with,  "  I  wish  I  had  never  done  so,  and  I  am  resolved  never 
to  do  so  more ; "  they  will  needs  persuade  themselves  that 
they  have  repented  ;  though  perhaps  in  this  very  thing  their 
heart  all  the  while  deceives  them,  and  they  neither  really 
wish  the  one  nor  resolve  the  other. 

But  whether  they  do  or  no,  all  true  penitential  sorrow  will 
and  must  proceed  much  further.  It  must  force  and  make  its 
way  into  the  very  inmost  corners  and  recesses  of  the  soul ;  it 
must  shake  all  the  powers  of  sin,  producing  in  the  heart 
strong  and  lasting  aversions  to  evil,  and  equal  dispositions  to 
good,  which,  I  must  confess,  are  great  things;  but  if  the 
sorrow  which  we  have  been  speaking  of  carry  us  not  so  far, 
let  it  express  itself  never  so  loudly  and  passionately,  and  dis 
charge  itself  in  never  so  many  showers  of  tears  and  volleys 
of  sighs,  yet  by  all  this  it  will  no  more  purge  a  man's  heart 
than  the  washing  of  his  hands  can  cleanse  the  rottenness  of 
his  bones.  But, 

Thirdly,  When  self-examination  has  both  shown  us  our  sin, 
and  repentance  has  disowned  and  cast  it  out,  the  next  thing 
naturally  consequent  upon  this  is,  with  the  highest  importu 
nity  to  supplicate  God's  pardon  for  the  guilt,  and  his  grace 
against  the  power  of  it.  And  this  brings  in  prayer  as  the 
third  preparative  for  the  sacrament :  a  duty,  upon  which  all 
the  blessings  of  both  worlds  are  entailed ;  a  duty,  appointed 
by  God  himself  as  the  great  conduit  and  noble  instrument  of 
commerce  between  heaven  and  earth  ;  a  duty,  founded  on 


410  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  [SERM.  xx. 

man's  essential  dependence  upon  God  ;  and  so,  in  the  ground 
and  reason  of  it,  perpetual,  and  consequently  in  the  practice 
of  it  indispensable. 

But  I  shall  speak  of  it  now  only  with  reference  to  the  sac 
rament.  And  so,  whatsoever  other  graces  may  furnish  us 
with  a  wedding-garment,  it  is  certain  that  prayer  must  put  it 
on.  Prayer  is  that  hy  which  a  man  engages  all  the  auxilia 
ries  of  omnipotence  itself  against  his  sin ;  and  is  so  utterly 
contrary  to  and  inconsistent  with  it,  that  the  same  heart  can 
not  long  hold  them  both,  but  one  must  soon  quit  possession 
of  it  to  the  other ;  and  either  praying  make  a  man  leave  off 
sinning,  or  sinning  force  him  to  give  over  praying. 

Every  real  act  of  hatred  of  sin  is,  in  the  very  nature  of  the 
thing,  a  partial  mortification  of  it ;  and  it  is  hardly  possible 
for  a  man  to  pray  heartily  against  his  sin,  but  he  must  at  the 
same  time  hate  it  too.  I  know  a  man  may  think  that  he 
hates  his  sin  when  indeed  he  does  not ;  but  then  it  is  also  as 
true  that  he  does  not  sincerely  pray  against  it,  whatsoever  he 
may  imagine. 

Besides,  since  the  very  life  and  spirit  of  prayer  consists 
in  an  ardent,  vehement  desire  of  the  thing  prayed  for,  and 
since  the  nature  of  the  soul  is  such  that  it  strangely  symbol 
izes  with  the  thing  it  mightily  desires,  it  is  evident,  that  if  a 
man  would  have  a  devout,  humble,  sin-abhorring,  self-denying 
frame  of  spirit,  he  can  not  take  a  more  efficacious  course  to 
attain  it  than  by  praying  himself  into  it.  And  so  close  a 
connection  has  this  duty  with  the  sacrament,  that  whatsoever 
we  receive  in  the  sacrament  is  properly  in  answer  to  our  pray 
ers.  And  consequently  we  may  with  great  assurance  conclude, 
that  he  who  is  not  frequently  upon  his  knees  before  he  comes 
to  that  holy  table,  kneels  to  very  little  purpose  when  he  is 
there.  But  then, 

Fourthly,  Because  prayer  is  not  only  one  of  the  highest 
and  hardest  duties  in  itself,  but  ought  to  be  more  than  ordi 
narily  fervent  and  vigorous  before  the  sacrament,  let  the  body 
be  also  called  in  as  an  assistant  to  the  soul,  and  abstinence 
and  fasting  added  to  promote  and  highten  her  devotions. 
Prayer  is  a  kind  of  wrestling  with  God ;  and  he  who  would 
win  the  prize  at  that  exercise,  must  be  severely  dieted  for  that 
purpose. 


MATT.  xxii.  12.]          Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  411 

The  truth  is,  fasting1  was  ever  acknowledged  by  the  church, 
in  all  ages,  as  a  singular  instrument  of  religion,  and  a  par 
ticular  preparative  to  the  sacrament.  And  hardly  was  there 
ever  any  thing  great  or  heroic  either  done  or  attempted  in 
religion  without  it.  Thus,  when  Moses  received  the  law  from 
God,  it  was  with  fasting,  Deut.  ix.  9.  When  Christ  entered 
upon  the  great  office  of  his  mediatorship,  it  was  with  fasting, 
Matt.  iv.  2.  And  when  Paul  and  Barnabas  were  separated  to 
that  high  and  difficult  charge  of  preaching  to  the  Gentiles, 
Acts  xiii.  2,  still  it  was  managed  with  fasting.  And  we  know 
the  rubric  of  our  own  church  always,  almost,  enjoins  a  fast  to 
prepare  us  for  a  festival. 

Bodily  abstinence  is  certainly  a  great  help  to  the  spirit; 
and  the  experience  of  all  wise  and  good  men  has  ever  found 
it  so.  The  ways  of  nature  and  the  methods  of  grace  are 
vastly  different.  Good  men  themselves  are  never  so  sur 
prised  as  in  the  midst  of  their  jollities ;  nor  so  fatally  over 
taken  and  caught  as  when  their  table  is  made  the  snare. 
Even  our  first  parents  ate  themselves  out  of  paradise ;  and 
Job's  children  junketed  and  feasted  together  often,  but  the 
reckoning  cost  them  dear  at  last.  The  heart  of  the  wise,  says 
Solomon,  is  in  the  house  of  mourning ;  and  the  house  of  fast 
ing  adjoins  to  it. 

In  a  word,  fasting  is  the  diet  of  angels,  the  food  and  refec 
tion  of  souls,  and  the  richest  and  highest  aliment  of  grace. 
And  he  who  fasts  for  the  sake  of  religion,  hungers  and  thirsts 
after  righteousness,  without  a  metaphor. 

Fifthly,  Since  every  devout  prayer  is  designed  to  ascend 
and  fly  up  to  heaven ;  as  fasting  (according  to  St.  Austin's 
allusion)  has  given  it  one  wing,  so  let  almsgiving  to  the  poor 
supply  it  with  another.  And  both  these  together  will  not 
only  carry  it  up  triumphant  to  heaven,  but,  if  need  require, 
bring  heaven  itself  down  to  the  devout  person  who  sends  it 
thither;  as,  while  Cornelius  was  fasting  and  praying,  (to 
which  he  still  joined  giving  alms,)  an  angel  from  heaven  was 
dispatched  to  him  with  this  happy  message,  Acts  x.  4,  Thy 
prayers  and  thine  alms  are  come  up  for  a  memorial  before  God. 
And  nothing  certainly  can  give  a  greater  efficacy  to  prayer, 
and  a  more  peculiar  fitness  for  the  sacrament,  than  a  hearty 
and  conscientious  practice  of  this  duty ;  without  which  all 


412  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  [SKRM.  xx. 

that  has  heen  mentioned  hitherto  is  nothing  but  wind  and 
air,  pageantry  and  hypocrisy :  for  if  there  be  any  truer  meas 
ure  of  a  man  than  by  what  he  does,  it  must  be  by  what  he 
gives.  He  who  is  truly  pious  will  account  it  a  wedding-sup 
per  to  feed  the  hungry,  and  a  wedding-garment  to  clothe  the 
naked.  And  God  and  man  will  find  it  a  very  unfit  garment 
for  such  a  purpose,  which  has  not  in  it  a  purse  or  pocket  for 
the  poor. 

But  so  far  are  some  from  considering  the  poor  before  the 
sacrament,  that  they  have  been  observed  to  give  nothing  to 
the  poor,  even  at  the  sacrament :  and  those  such,  that  if  rich 
clothes  might  pass  for  a  wedding-garment,  none  could  appear 
better  fitted  for  such  a  solemnity  than  themselves ;  yet  some 
such,  I  say,  I  myself  have  seen  at  a  communion,  drop  nothing 
into  the  poor's  basin. 

But,  good  God  !  what  is  the  heart  of  such  worldlings  made 
of,  and  what  a  mind  do  they  bring  with  them  to  so  holy  an 
ordinance!  an  ordinance  in  which  none  can  be  qualified  to 
receive,  whose  heart  does  not  serve  them  also  to  give. 

From  such  indeed  as  have  nothing,  God  expects  nothing ; 
but  where  God  has  given,  as  I  may  say,  with  both  hands, 
and  men  return  with  none,  such  must  know  that  the  poor 
have  an  action  of  debt  against  them,  and  that  God  himself 
will  undertake  and  prosecute  their  suit  for  them :  and  if  he 
does,  since  they  could  not  find  in  their  hearts  to  proportion 
their  charity  to  their  estates,  nothing  can  be  more  just  than 
for  God  to  proportion  their  estates  to  their  charity ;  and  by 
so  doing,  he  can  not  well  give  them  a  shrewder  and  a  shorter 
cut. 

In  the  mean  time,  let  such  know  further,  that  whosoever 
dares,  upon  so  sacred  and  solemn  an  occasion,  approach  the 
altar  with  bowels  so  shut  up  as  to  leave  nothing  behind 
him  there  for  the  poor,  shall  be  sure  to  carry  something 
away  with  him  from  thence  which  will  do  him  but  little 
good. 

Sixthly,  Since  the  charity  of  the  hand  signifies  but  little, 
unless  it  springs  from  the  heart  and  flows  through  the  mouth, 
let  the  pious  communicant,  both  in  heart  and  tongue,  thoughts 
and  speech,  put  on  a  charitable,  friendly,  Christian  temper  of 
mind  and  carriage  towards  all.  Wrath  and  envy,  malice  and 


MATT.  xxii.  12-1         Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  413 

backbiting-,  and  the  like,  are  direct  contradictions  to  the  very 
spirit  of  Christianity,  and  fit  a  man  for  the  sacrament  just 
as  much  as  a  stomach  overflowed  with  gall  would  help  him  to 
digest  his  meat.  St.  Paul  often  rebukes  and  schools  such 
disturbers  of  the  world  very  sharply,  correcting  a  base  humor 
by  a  very  generous  rule,  Phil.  ii.  3 ;  Let  each,  says  he,  esteem 
others  letter  than  themselves.  No  man,  doubtless,  shall  ever  be 
condemned  of  God  for  not  judging  his  brother :  for,  be  thy 
brother  or  neighbor  never  so  wicked  and  ungodly,  satisfy  thy 
self  with  this,  that  another's  wickedness  shall  never  damn 
thee ;  but  thy  own  bitterness  and  rancor  may,  and,  continued 
in,  certainly  will :  rather  let  his  want  of  grace  give  thee  oc 
casion  to  exercise  thine,  if  thou  hast  any,  in  thinking  and 
speaking  better  of  him  than  he  deserves  :  and  if  thy  charity 
proves  mistaken,  assure  thyself  that  God  will  accept  the 
charity,  and  overlook  the  mistake.  But  if  in  judging  him 
whom  thou  hast  nothing  to  do  with,  thou  chancest  to  judge 
one  way,  and  God  and  truth  to  judge  another,  take  heed  of 
that  dreadful  tribunal,  where  it  will  not  be  enough  to  say 
that  "I  thought  this,"  or  "  I  heard  that;"  and  where  no 
man's  mistake  will  be  able  to  warrant  an  unjust  surmise,  and 
much  less  justify  a  false  censure.  Such  would  find  it  much 
better  for  them  to  retreat  inwards,  and  view  themselves  in  the 
law  of  God  and  their  own  consciences ;  and  that  will  tell 
them  their  own  impartially,  that  will  fetch  off  all  their  paint, 
and  show  them  a  foul  face  in  a  true  glass.  Let  them  read 
over  their  catechism,  and  lay  aside  spite  and  virulence,  gos 
siping  and  meddling,  calumny  and  detraction;  and  let  not 
all  about  them  be  villains  and  reprobates,  because  they  them 
selves  are  envious  and  forlorn,  idle  and  malicious :  such  ver 
min  are  to  be  looked  upon  by  all  sober  Christians  as  the  very 
cankers  of  society,  and  the  shame  of  any  religion ;  and  so  far 
from  being  fit  to  come  to  the  sacrament,  that  really  they  are 
not  fit  to  come  to  church ;  and  would  much  better  become 
the  house  of  correction  than  the  house  of  prayer. 

Nevertheless,  as  custom  in  sin  makes  people  blind,  and 
blindness  makes  them  bold,  none  come  more  confidently  to 
the  sacrament  than  such  wretches.  But  when  I  consider  the 
pure  and  blessed  body  of  our  Saviour,  passing  through  the 
open  sepulchres  of  such  throats,  into  the  noisome  receptacles 


414  Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  [SERM.  xx. 

of  their  boiling,  fermenting  breasts,  it  seems  to  me  a  lively 
but  sad  representation  of  Christ's  being  first  buried,  and  then 
descending  into  hell.  Let  this  diabolical  leaven  therefore 
be  purged  out;  and  while  such  pretend  to  be  so  busy  in 
cleansing  their  hearts,  let  them  not  forget  to  wash  their 
mouths  too. 

Seventhly  and  lastly ;  As  it  is  to  be  supposed  that  the  pious 
communicant  has  all  along  carried  on,  so  let  him  likewise  in 
the  issue  close  his  preparatory  work  with  reading  and  medi 
tation.  Of  which,  since  the  time  will  not  serve  me  to  speak 
more  now,  I  shall  only  remark  this,  that  they  are  duties  of  so 
near  an  import  to  the  wellbeing  of  the  soul,  that  the  proper 
office  of  reading  is  to  take  in  its  spiritual  food,  and  of  medi 
tation  to  digest  it. 

And  now,  I  hope,  that  whosoever  shall  in  the  sincerity  of 
his  heart  acquit  himself  as  to  all  the  foregoing  duties,  and 
thereby  prepare  and  adorn  himself  to  meet  and  converse 
with  his  Saviour  at  this  divine  feast,  shall  never  be  accosted 
with  the  thunder  of  that  dreadful  increpation  from  him, 
Friend,  how  earnest  thou  in  hither,  not  hewing  a  wedding-gar 
ment  ? 

But  because  I  am  very  sensible  that  all  the  particular 
instances  of  duty,  which  may  one  way  or  other  contribute  to 
the  fitting  of  men  for  this  great  one,  can  hardly  be  assigned, 
and  much  less  equally  and  universally  applied,  where  the  con 
ditions  of  men  are  so  very  different,  I  shall  gather  them  all 
into  this  one  plain,  full,  and  comprehensive  rule ;  namely,  That 
all  those  duties  which  common  Christianity  always  obliges  a 
Christian  to,  ought  most  eminently,  and  with  a  higher  and 
more  exalted  pitch  of  devotion,  to  be  performed  by  him  before 
the  sacrament;  and  convertibly,  whatsoever  duties  divines 
prescribe  to  be  observed  by  him  with  a  peculiar  fervor  and  ap 
plication  of  mind  upon  this  occasion,  ought,  in  their  propor 
tion,  to  be  practiced  by  him  through  the  whole  course  of  his 
Christian  conversation. 

And  this  is  a  solid  and  sure  rule ;  a  rule  that  will  never 
deceive  or  lurch  the  sincere  communicant ;  a  rule,  that  by 
adding  discretion  to  devotion,  will  both  keep  him  from  being 
humorsome,  singular,  and  fantastic  in  his  preparations  be 
fore  the  sacrament,  and  (which  is  worse,  and  must  fatally 


MATT.  xxii.  12.]         Of  Sacramental  Preparation.  415 

unravel  all  again)  from  being,  as  most  are,  loose  and  remiss 
after  it;  and  thinking  that,  as  soon  as  the  sacrament  is 
over,  their  great  business  is  done,  whereas  indeed  it  is  but 
begun. 

And  now  I  fear,  that  as  I  have  been  too  long  upon  the 
whole,  so  I  have  been  but  too  brief  upon  so  many,  and  those 
such  weighty  particulars.  But  I  hope  you  will  supply  this 
defect,  by  enlarging  upon  them  in  your  practice,  and  make 
up  the  omissions  of  the  pulpit  by  the  meditations  of  the 
closet.  And  God  direct  and  assist  us  all  in  so  concerning  a 
work. 

To  whom  be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise, 
might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for  evermore. 
Amen. 


SERMON  XXI. 


THE   FATAL   IMPOSTURE   AND   FORCE   OF   WORDS: 

SET  FORTH  IN  A  SERMON  PREACHED  ON  ISAIAH  V.  20. 

MAY  9,  1686. 


ISAIAH  v.  20.  —  Woe  unto  them  that  call  evil  good,  and  good  evil,  frc. 

THESE  words  contain  in  them  two  things  : 
1.  A  woe  denounced ;  and, 

2.  The  sin  for  which  it  is  denounced ;  to  wit,  the  calling 
evil  good,  and  good  evil :  which  expression  may  be  taken  two 
ways : 

First,  In  a  judicial  and  more  restrained  sense ;  as  it  sig 
nifies  the  pronouncing  of  a  guilty  person  innocent,  and  an 
innocent,  guilty,  in  the  course  of  judgment.  But  this  I  take 
to  be  too  particular  to  reach  the  design  of  the  words  here. 

Secondly,  It  may  be  taken  in  a  general  and  more  enlarged 
sense ;  as  it  imports  a  misrepresentation  of  the  qualities  of 
things  and  actions  to  the  common  apprehensions  of  men, 
abusing  their  minds  with  false  notions,  and  so  by  this  artifice 
making  evil  pass  for  good,  and  good  for  evil,  in  all  the  great 
concerns  of  life.  Where,  by  good,  I  question  not,  but  good 
morally  so  called,  bonum  honestum,  ought,  chiefly  at  least,  to 
be  understood ;  and  that  the  good  of  profit,  or  pleasure,  the 
bonum  utile,  or  jucundum,  hardly  come  into  any  account  here, 
as  things  extremely  below  the  principal  design  of  the  Spirit  of 
God  in  this  place. 

It  is  wonderful  to  consider,  that,  since  good  is  the  natural 
and  proper  object  which  all  human  choice  is  carried  out  to ; 
and  evil,  that  which  with  all  its  might  it  shuns  and  flies  from ; 
and  since  withal  there  is  that  controlling  worth  and  beauty  in 


ISAIAH  v.  20.]    Of  the  fatal  Imposture  and  Force  of  Words.     417 

goodness,  that,  as  such,  the  will  can  not  hut  like  and  desire 
it ;  and,  on  the  other  side,  that  odious  deformity  in  vice,  that 
it  never  so  much  as  offers  itself  to  the  affections  or  practice 
of  mankind,  hut  under  the  disguise  and  colors  of  the  other ; 
and  since  all  this  is  easily  discernible  hy  the  ordinary  dis 
courses  of  the  understanding ;  and  lastly,  since  nothing  passes 
into  the  choice  of  the  will,  hut  as  it  comes  conveyed  and 
warranted  by  the  understanding,  as  worthy  of  its  choice ;  I 
say,  it  is  wonderful  to  consider,  that,  notwithstanding  all  this, 
the  lives  and  practices  of  the  generality  of  men  (in  which 
men  certainly  should  be  most  in  earnest)  are  almost  wholly 
took  up  in  a  passionate  pursuit  of  what  is  evil,  and  in  an 
equal  neglect,  if  not  also  an  abhorrence,  of  what  is  good. 
This  is  certainly  so  ;  and  experience,  which  is  neither  to  be 
confuted  nor  denied,  does  every  minute  prove  the  sad  truth 
of  this  assertion. 

But  now,  what  should  be  the  cause  of  all  this?  For  so 
great,  so  constant,  and  so  general  a  practice  must  needs  have 
not  only  a  cause,  but  also  a  great,  a  constant,  and  a  general 
cause ;  a  cause  every  way  commensurate  to  such  an  effect : 
and  this  cause  must  of  necessity  be  from  one  of  those  two 
commanding  powers  of  the  soul,  the  understanding  or  the 
will.  As  for  the  will,  though  its  liberty  be  such,  that,  a  suit 
able  or  proper  good  being  proposed  to  it,  it  has  a  power  to 
refuse,  or  not  to  choose  it,  yet  it  has  no  power  to  choose 
evil,  considered  absolutely  as  evil,  this  being  directly  against 
the  nature  and  natural  method  of  its  workings. 

Nevertheless  it  is  but  too  manifest  that  things  evil,  ex 
tremely  evil,  are  both  readily  chosen,  and  eagerly  pursued 
and  practiced  by  it.  And  therefore  this  must  needs  be  from 
that  other  governing  faculty  of  the  soul,  the  understanding, 
which  represents  to  the  will  things  really  evil  under  the 
notion  and  character  of  good.  And  this,  this  is  the  true 
source  and  original  of  this  great  mischief.  The  will  chooses, 
follows,  and  embraces  things  evil  and  destructive ;  but  it  is 
because  the  understanding  first  tells  it  that  they  are  good 
and  wholesome,  and  fit  to  be  chosen  by  it.  One  man  gives 
another  a  cup  of  poison,  a  thing  as  terrible  as  death ;  but 
at  the  same  time  he  tells  him  that  it  is  a  cordial;  and  so 
he  drinks  it  off,  and  dies. 

VOL.  i.  27 


418  Of  the  fatal  Imposture  [SERM.  XXL 

From  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  this  day,  there  was 
never  any  great  villainy  acted  by  men,  but  it  was  in  the 
strength  of  some  great  fallacy  put  upon  their  minds  by  a  false 
representation  of  evil  for  good,  or  good  for  evil.  In  the  day 
that  tliou  eatest  thereof  thou  shalt  surely  die,  says  God  to  Adam  ; 
and  so  long  as  Adam  believed  this,  he  did  not  eat.  But,  says 
the  devil,  in  the  day  that  thou  eatest  thereof  thou  shalt  be 
so  far  from  surely  dying,  that  thou  shalt  be  immortal,  and 
from  a  man  grow  into  an  angel ;  and  upon  this  different 
account  of  the  thing,  he  presently  took  the  fruit,  and  ate 
mortality,  misery,  and  destruction  to  himself  and  his  whole 
posterity. 

And  now,  can  there  be  a  woe  or  curse  in  all  the  stores  and 
magazines  of  vengeance,  equal  to  the  malignity  of  such  a 
practice  ;  of  which  one  single  instance  could  involve  all  man 
kind,  past,  present,  and  to  come,  in  one  universal  and  irrep 
arable  confusion  ?  God  commanded  and  told  man  what  was 
good,  but  the  devil  surnamed  it  evil,  and  thereby  baffled  the 
command,  turned  the  world  topsy-turvy,  and  brought  a  new 
chaos  upon  the  whole  creation. 

But  that  I  may  give  you  a  more  full  discussion  of  the  sense 
and  design  of  the  words,  I  shall  do  it  under  these  following 
particulars:  as, 

First,  I  shall  give  you  some  general  account  of  the  na 
ture  of  good  and  evil,  and  the  reason  upon  which  they  are 
founded. 

Secondly,  I  shall  show  that  the  way  by  which  good  and  evil 
commonly  operate  upon  the  mind  of  man,  is  by  those  respect 
ive  names  or  appellations  by  which  they  are  notified  and 
conveyed  to  the  mind.  And, 

Thirdly  and  lastly,  I  shall  show  the  mischief,  directly,  nat 
urally,  and  unavoidably  following  from  the  misapplication  and 
confusion  of  those  names. 

And,  I  hope,  by  going  over  all  these  particulars,  you  may 
receive  some  tolerable  satisfaction  about  this  great  subject 
which  we  have  now  before  us. 

1.  And  first  for  the  nature  of  good  and  evil,  what  they 
are,  and  upon  what  they  are  founded.  The  knowledge  of  this 
I  look  upon  as  the  foundation  and  groundwork  of  all  those 
rules  that  either  moral  philosophy  or  divinity  can  give  for 


ISAIAH  v.  20.]  and  Force  of  Words.  419 

the  direction  of  the  lives  and  practices  of  men ;  and  conse 
quently  ought  to  be  reckoned  as  a  first  principle  ;  and  that 
such  an  one,  that,  for  aught  I  see,  the  thorough  speculation 
of  good  will  he  found  much  more  difficult  than  the  practice. 
But  when  we  shall  have  once  given  some  account  of  the 
nature  of  good,  that  of  evil  will  be  known  by  consequence ;  as 
being  only  a  privation,  or  absence  of  good,  in  a  subject  capa 
ble  of  it,  and  proper  for  it. 

Now  good,  in  the  general  nature  and  notion  of  it,  over  and 
above  the  bare  being  of  a  thing,  connotes  also  a  certain  suit 
ableness  or  agreeableness  of  it  to  some  other  thing :  according 
to  which  general  notion  of  good,  applied  to  the  particular 
nature  of  moral  goodness,  (upon  which  only  we  now  insist,)  a 
thing  or  action  is  said  to  be  morally  good  or  evil,  as  it  is 
agreeable  or  disagreeable  to  right  reason,  or  to  a  rational 
nature ;  and  as  right  reason  is  nothing  else  but  the  under 
standing  or  mind  of  man,  discoursing  and  judging  of  things 
truly  and  as  they  are  in  themselves ;  and  as  all  truth  is  un 
changeably  the  same ;  (that  proposition  which  is  true  at  any 
time  being  so  forever ;)  so  it  must  follow  that  the  moral 
goodness  or  evil  of  men's  actions,  which  consist  in  their  con 
formity  or  unconformity  to  right  reason,  must  be  also  eternal, 
necessary,  and  unchangeable.  So  that,  as  that  which  is  right 
reason  at  any  time,  or  in  any  case,  is  always  right  reason  with 
relation  to  the  same  time  and  case  ;  in  like  manner,  that 
which  is  morally  good  or  evil  at  any  time,  or  in  any  ease, 
(since  it  takes  its  whole  measure  from  right  reason,)  must  be 
also  eternally  and  unchangeably  a  moral  good  or  evil,  with 
relation  to  that  time  and  to  that  case.  For  propositions  con 
cerning  the  goodness,  as  well  as  concerning  the  truth  of 
things,  are  necessary  and  perpetual. 

But  you  will  say,  may  not  the  same  action,  as  for  instance, 
the  killing  of  a  man,  be  sometimes  morally  good,  and  some 
times  morally  evil  ?  to  wit,  good,  when  it  is  the  execution  of 
justice  upon  a  malefactor,  and  evil,  when  it  is  the  taking 
away  the  life  of  an  innocent  person  ? 

To  this  I  answer,  that  this  indeed  is  true  of  actions  consid 
ered  in  their  general  nature  or  kind,  but  not  considered  in 
their  particular  individual  instances.  For,  generally  speaking, 
to  take  away  the  life  of  a  man  is  neither  morally  good  nor 


420  Of  tlie  fatal  Imposture  [SEUM.  xxi. 

morally  evil,  but  capable  of  being  either,  as  the  circumstances 
of  things  shall  determine  it ;  but  every  particular  act  of  kill 
ing  is  of  necessity  accompanied  with,  and  determined  by, 
several  circumstances,  which  actually  and  unavoidably  consti 
tute  and  denominate  it  either  good  or  evil.  And  that  which, 
being  performed  under  such  and  such  circumstances,  is  morally 
good,  can  not  possibly,  under  the  same  circumstances,  ever  be 
morally  evil.  And  so  on  the  contrary. 

From  whence  we  infer  the  villainous  falsehood  of  two  as 
sertions,  held  and  maintained  by  some  persons,  and  too  much 
countenanced  by  some  others  in  the  world.  As, 

First,  That  good  and  evil,  honest  and  dishonest,  are  not 
qualities  existing  or  inherent  in  things  themselves ;  but  only 
founded  in  the  opinions  of  men  concerning  things.  So  that 
any  thing  or  action  that  has  gained  the  general  approbation 
of  any  people,  or  society  of  men,  ought,  in  respect  of  those 
persons,  to  be  esteemed  morally  good,  or  honest ;  and  what 
soever  falls  under  their  general  disapprobation,  ought,  upon 
the  same  account,  to  be  reckoned  morally  evil,  or  dishonest ; 
which  also  they  would  seem  to  prove  from  the  very  significa 
tion  of  the  word  honestus;  which,  originally  and  strictly, 
signifies  no  more  than  creditable,  and  is  but  a  derivative  from 
honor,  which  signifies  credit  or  honor ;  and  according  to  the 
opinion  of  some,  we  know  that  is  lodged  only  in  the  esteem 
and  thoughts  of  those  who  pay  it,  and  not  in  the  thing  or 
person  whom  it  is  paid  to.  Thus  for  example ;  thieving  or 
robbing  was  accounted  amongst  the  Spartans  a  gallant, 
worthy,  and  a  creditable  thing ;  and  consequently,  according 
to  the  principle  which  we  have  mentioned,  thievery,  amongst 
the  Spartans,  was  a  practice  morally  good  and  honest.  Thus 
also,  both  with  the  Grecians  and  the  Romans,  it  was  held  a 
magnanimous  and  highly  laudable  act  for  a  man,  under  any 
great  or  insuperable  misery  or  distress,  to  put  an  end  to  his 
own  life ;  and  accordingly,  with  those  who  had  such  thoughts 
of  it,  that  which  we  call  self-murder  was  properly  a  good,  an 
honest,  and  a  virtuous  action.  And  persons  of  the  highest 
and  most  acknowledged  probity  and  virtue  amongst  them, 
such  as  Marcus  Cato,  and  Pomponius  Atticus,  actually  did  it, 
and  stand  celebrated  both  by  their  orators  and  historians  for 
so  doing.  And  I  could  also  instance  in  other  actions  of  a 

I 


ISAIAH  v.  20.]  mul  Force  of  Words.  421 

fouler  and  more  unnatural  hue,  which  yet,  from  the  approba 
tion  and  credit  they  have  found  in  some  countries  and  places, 
have  passed  for  good  morality  in  those  places :  but,  out  of 
respect  to  common  humanity,  as  well  as  divinity,  I  shall 
pass  them  over.  And  thus  much  for  the  first  assertion  or 
opinion. 

Secondly,  The  second  opinion,  or  position,  is,  that  good  and 
evil,  honest  and  dishonest,  are  originally  founded  in  the  laws 
and  constitutions  of  the  sovereign  civil  power,  enjoining  some 
things  or  actions,  and  prohibiting  others.  So  that  when  any 
thing  is  found  conducing  to  the  welfare  of  the  public,  and 
thereupon  comes  to  be  enacted  by  governors  into  a  law,  it  is 
forthwith  thereby  rendered  morally  good  and  honest ;  and,  on 
the  contrary,  evil  and  dishonest,  when,  upon  its  contrariety  to 
the  public  welfare,  it  stands  prohibited  and  condemned  by  the 
same  public  authority. 

This  was  the  opinion  heretofore  of  Epicurus,  as  it  is  repre 
sented  by  Gassendus ;  who  understood  his  notions  too  well  to 
misrepresent  them.  And  lately  of  one  amongst  ourselves,  a 
less  philosopher,  though  the  greater  heathen  of  the  two,  the 
infamous  author  of  the  Leviathan.  And  the  like  lewd,  scan 
dalous,  and  immoral  doctrine,  or  worse,  if  possible,  may  be 
found  in  some  writers,  of  another  kind  of  note  and  character ; 
whom,  one  would  have  thought,  not  only  religion,  but  shame 
of  the  world,  might  have  taught  better  things. 

Such  as,  for  instance,  Bellarmine  himself ;  who,  in  his  4th 
book  and  5th  chapter  De  Pontifice  Romano,  has  this  monstrous 
passage :  "  That  if  the  pope  should  through  error  or  mis 
take  command  vices,  and  prohibit  virtues,  the  church  would 
be  bound  in  conscience  to  believe  vice  to  be  good,  and  virtue 
evil."  I  shall  give  you  the  whole  passage  in  his  own  words 
to  a  tittle :  "  Fides  catholica  docet  omnem  virtutem  esse 
bonam,  omne  vitium  esse  malum.  Si  autem  erraret  papa, 
prsscipiendo  vitia  vel  prohibendo  virtutes,  teneretur  ecclesia 
credere  vitia  esse  bona  et  virtutes  malas,  nisi  vellet  contra 
conscientiam  peccare."  Good  God !  that  any  thing  that 
wears  the  name  of  a  Christian,  or  but  of  a  man,  should  vent 
ure  to  own  such  a  villainous,  impudent,  and  blasphemous 
assertion  in  the  face  of  the  world,  as  this !  What !  must 
murder,  adultery,  theft,  fraud,  extortion,  perjury,  drunken- 


422  Of  the  fatal  Imposture  [SERM.  xxi. 

ness,  rebellion,  and  the  like,  pass  for  good  and  commendable 
actions,  and  fit  to  be  practiced  ?  And  mercy,  chastity,  justice, 
truth,  temperance,  loyalty,  and  sincere  dealing,  be  accounted 
things  utterly  evil,  immoral,  and  not  to  be  followed  by  men, 
in  case  the  pope,  who  is  generally  weak,  and  almost  always  a 
wicked  man,  should,  by  his  mistake  and  infallible  ignorance, 
command  the  former,  and  forbid  the  latter?  Did  Christ 
himself  ever  assume  such  a  power  as  to  alter  the  morality  of 
actions,  and  to  transform  vice  into  virtue,  and  virtue  into 
vice,  by  his  bare  word  ?  Certainly  never  did  a  grosser  para 
dox,  or  a  wickeder  sentence,  drop  from  the  mouth  or  pen  of 
any  mortal  man,  since  reason  or  religion  had  any  being  in  the 
world. 

And,  I  must  confess,  I  have  often  with  great  amazement 
wondered  how  it  could  possibly  come  from  a  person  of  so  great 
a  reputation,  both  for  learning  and  virtue  too,  as  the  world 
allows  Bellarmine  to  have  been.  But  when  men  give  them 
selves  over  to  the  defense  of  wicked  interests  and  false  prop 
ositions,  it  is  just  with  God  to  smite  the  greatest  abilities  with 
the  greatest  infatuations. 

But  as  for  these  two  positions  or  assertions ;  That  the  moral 
good  or  evil,  the  honesty  or  dishonesty  of  human  actions, 
should  depend  either  upon  the  opinions  or  upon  the  laws  of 
men  ;  they  are  certainly  false  in  themselves,  because  they  are 
infinitely  absurd  in  their  consequences.  Some  of  which  are 
such  as  these.  As, 

First,  If  the  moral  goodness  or  evil  of  men's  actions  were 
originally  founded  in,  and  so  proceeded  wholly  from,  the  opin 
ions  or  laws  of  men,  then  it  would  follow  that  they  must 
change  and  vary  according  to  the  change  and  difference  of 
the  opinions  and  laws  of  men :  and  consequently,  that  the 
same  action,  under  exactly  the  same  circumstances,  may  be 
morally  good  one  day,  and  morally  evil  another ;  and  morally 
good  in  one  place,  and  morally  evil  in  another :  forasmuch  as 
the  same  sovereign  authority  may  enact  or  make  a  law,  com 
manding  such  or  such  an  action  to-day,  and  a  quite  contrary 
law  forbidding  the  same  action  to-morrow ;  and  the  very  same 
action,  under  the  same  circumstances,  may  be  commanded  by 
law  in  one  country,  and  prohibited  by  law  in  another.  Which 
being  so,  the  consequence  is  manifest,  and  the  absurdity  of 
the  consequent  intolerable. 


ISAIAH  v.  20.]  and  Force  of  Words.  423 

Secondly,  If  the  moral  goodness  or  evil  of  men's  actions 
depended  originally  upon  human  laws,  then  those  laws  them 
selves  could  neither  be  morally  good  nor  evil :  the  conse 
quence  is  evident;  because  those  laws  are  not  commanded 
or  prohibited  by  any  antecedent  human  laws;  and  conse 
quently,  if  the  moral  goodness  or  evil  of  any  act  were  to  be 
derived  only  from  a  precedent  human  law,  laws  themselves, 
not  supposing  a  dependence  upon  other  precedent  human 
laws,  could  have  no  moral  goodness  or  evil  in  them.  Which 
to  assert  of  any  human  act  (such  as  all  human  laws  essentially 
are  and  must  be)  is  certainly  a  very  gross  absurdity. 

Thirdly,  If  the  moral  goodness  or  evil  of  men's  actions 
were  sufficiently  derived  from  human  laws  or  constitutions, 
then,  upon  supposal  that  a  divine  law  should  (as  it  often  does) 
command  what  is  prohibited  by  human  laws,  and  prohibit 
what  is  commanded  by  them,  it  would  follow,  that  either  such 
commands  and  prohibitions  of  the  divine  law  do  not  at  all 
affect  the  actions  of  men  in  point  of  their  morality,  so  as  to 
render  them  either  good  or  evil ;  or  that  the  same  action,  at 
the  same  time,  may,  in  respect  of  the  divine  law  commanding 
it,  be  morally  good ;  and,  in  respect  of  a  human  law  forbid 
ding  it,  be  morally  evil :  than  which  consequence,  nothing  can 
be  more  clear,  nor  withal  more  absurd. 

And  many  more  of  the  like  nature  I  could  easily  draw 
forth,  and  lay  before  you.  Every  false  principle  or  proposi 
tion  being  sure  to  be  attended  with  a  numerous  train  of  ab 
surdities. 

But,  as  to  the  subject-matter  now  in  hand ;  so  far  is  the 
morality  of  human  actions,  as  to  the  goodness  or  evil  of  them, 
from  being  founded  in  any  human  law,  that  in  very  many, 
and  those  the  principal  instances  of  human  action,  it  is  not 
originally  founded  in,  or  derived  from,  so  much  as  any  posi 
tive  divine  law.  There  being  a  jus  naturale  certainly  ante- 
cedent  to  all  jus  positivum,  either  human  or  divine  ;  and  that 
such  as  results  from  the  very  nature  and  being  of  things,  as 
they  stand  in  such  a  certain  habitude  or  relation  to  one  an 
other:  to  which  relation  whatsoever  is  done  agreeably  is 
morally  and  essentially  good ;  and  whatsoever  is  done  other 
wise  is,  at  the  same  rate,  morally  evil. 

And  this  I  shall  exemplify  in  those  two  grand,  compreheii- 


424  Of  the  fatal  Imposture  [SEEM.  xxi. 

sive,  moral  duties,  which  man  is  forever  obliged  to,  his  duty 
towards  God,  and  his  duty  towards  his  neighbor. 

And  first,  for  his  duty  towards  God ;  which  is,  to  love  and 
obey  him  with  all  his  heart  and  all  his  soul.  It  is  certain  that 
for  a  rational,  intelligent  creature  to  conform  himself  to  the 
will  of  God  in  all  things,  carries  in  it  a  moral  rectitude,  or 
goodness ;  and  to  disobey  or  oppose  his  will  in  any  thing,  im 
ports  a  moral  obliquity,  before  God  ever  deals  forth  any  par 
ticular  law  or  command  to  such  a  creature ;  there  being  a 
general  obligation  upon  man  to  obey  all  God's  laws,  whenso 
ever  they  shall  be  declared,  before  any  particular  instance  of 
law  comes  actually  to  be  declared.  But  now  whence  is  this  ? 
Why,  from  that  essential  suitableness  which  obedience  has  to 
the  relation  which  is  between  a  rational  creature  and  his 
Creator.  Nothing  in  nature  being  more  irrational  and  irreg 
ular,  and  consequently  more  immoral,  than  for  an  intelligent 
being  to  oppose  or  disobey  that  sovereign,  supreme  will,  which 
gave  him  that  being,  and  has  withal  the  sole  and  absolute 
disposal  of  him  in  all  his  concerns.  So  that  there  needs  no 
positive  law  or  sanction  of  God  to  stamp  an  obliquity  upon 
such  a  disobedience ;  since  it  cleaves  to  it  essentially,  and  by 
way  of  natural  result  from  it,  upon  the  account  of  that  utter 
unsuitableness  which  disobedience  has  to  the  relation  which 
man  naturally  and  necessarily  stands  in  towards  his  Maker. 

And  then,  in  the  next  place,  for  his  duty  to  his  neighbor. 
The  whole  of  which  is  comprised  in  that  great  rule,  of  doing 
as  a  man  would  be  done  by.  We  may  truly  affirm,  that  the 
morality  of  this  rule  does  not  originally  derive  itself  from 
those  words  of  our  Saviour,  Matt.  vii.  12;  Whatsoever  ye 
would  that  men  should  do  unto  you,  do  ye  even  so  unto  them :  no, 
nor  yet  from  Moses  or  the  prophets ;  but  it  is  as  old  as  Adam, 
and  bears  date  with  human  nature  itself;  as  springing  from 
that  primitive  relation  of  equality  which  all  men,  as  fellow- 
creatures,  and  fellow-subjects  to  the  same  supreme  Lord,  bear 
to  one  another,  in  respect  of  that  common  right  which  every 
man  has  equally  to  his  life,  and  to  the  proper  comforts  of  life, 
and  consequently  to  all  things  naturally  necessary  to  the 
support  of  both. 

Now,  whatsoever  one  man  has  a  right  to  keep  or  possess, 
no  other  man  can  have  a  right  to  take  from  him.  So  that  no 


ISAIAH  v.  20.]  v  and  ForcQ  of  Words.  425 

man  has  a  right  to  expect  that  from  or  to  do  that  to  another, 
which  that  other  has  not  an  equal  right  to  expect  from  and  to 
do  to  him.  Which  parity  of  right,  as  to  all  things  purely 
natural,  being  undoubtedly  the  result  of  nature  itself,  can  any 
thing  be  inferred  from  thence  more  conformable  to  reason, 
and  consequently  of  a  greater  moral  rectitude,  than  that  such 
an  equality  of  right  should  also  cause  an  equality  of  behavior, 
between  man  and  man,  as  to  all  those  mutual  offices  and  in 
tercourses  in  which  life  and  the  happiness  of  life  are  con 
cerned  ?  Nothing  certainly  can  shine  out  and  show  itself  by 
the  mere  light  of  reason,  as  a  higher  and  more  unquestion 
able  piece  of  morality  than  this,  nor  as  a  more  confessed  devi 
ation  from  morality  than  the  contrary  practice. 

From  all  which  discourse  I  think  we  may  without  pre 
sumption  conclude,  that  the  rationes  boni  et  mali,  the  nature 
of  good  and  evil,  as  to  the  principal  instances  of  both,  spring 
from  that  essential  habitude,  or  relation,  which  the  nature  of 
one  thing  bears  to  another  by  virtue  of  that  order  which  they 
stand  placed  in,  here  in  the  world,  by  the  very  law  and  con 
dition  of  their  creation ;  and  for  that  reason  do  and  must 
precede  all  positive  laws,  sanctions,  or  institutions  whatsoever. 
Good  and  evil  are  in  morality  as  the  east  and  west  are  in  the 
frame  of  the  world ;  founded  in  and  divided  by  that  fixed 
and  unalterable  situation  which  they  have  respectively  in  the 
whole  body  of  the  universe ;  or,  as  the  right  hand  is  discrimi 
nated  from  the  left,  by  a  natural,  necessary,  and  never  to  be 
confounded  distinction. 

And  thus  I  have  done  with  the  first  thing  proposed,  and 
given  you  such  an  account  of  the  nature  of  good  and  evil,  as 
the  measure  of  the  present  exercise  and  occasion  would  allow. 
Pass  we  now  to  the 

2d,  which  is  to  show,  That  the  way  by  which  good  and 
evil  generally  operate  upon  the  mind  of  man,  is  by  those 
words  or  names  by  which  they  are  notified  and  conveyed  to 
the  mind.  Words  are  the  signs  and  symbols  of  things ;  and 
as  in  accompts,  ciphers  and  figures  pass  for  real  sums,  so  in 
the  course  of  human  affairs,  words  and  names  pass  for  things 
themselves.  For  things,  or  objects,  can  not  enter  into  the 
mind,  as  they  subsist  in  themselves,  and  by  their  own  natural 
bulk  pass  into  the  apprehension ;  but  they  are  taken  in  by 


428  Of  the  fatal  Imposture  [SEKM.  xxi. 

their  ideas,  their  notions  or  resemblances ;  which  imprinting 
themselves  after  a  spiritual  immaterial  manner  in  the  imag 
ination,  and  from  thence,  under  a  further  refinement,  passing 
into  the  intellect,  are  by  that  expressed  by  certain  words  or 
names,  found  out  and  invented  by  the  mind,  for  the  commu 
nication  of  its  conceptions,  or  thoughts,  to  others.  So  that 
as  conceptions  are  the  images  or  resemblances  of  things  to 
the  mind  within  itself,  in  like  manner  are  words,  or  names, 
the  marks,  tokens,  or  resemblances  of  those  conceptions  to 
the  minds  of  them  whom  we  converse  with :  ra  lv  rfj  <j>urrj 
TUV  kv  rfj  ^vxfj  ira.Ofj^a.r^v  <ru/A/3oAa,  being  the  known  maxim  laid 
down  by  the  philosopher  as  the  first  and  most  fundamental 
rule  of  all  discourse. 

This  therefore  is  certain,  that  in  human  life,  or  conversa 
tion,  words  stand  for  things ;  the  common  business  of  the 
world  not  being  capable  of  being  managed  otherwise.  For  by 
these,  men  come  to  know  one  another's  minds.  By  these 
they  covenant  and  confederate.  By  these  they  buy  and  sell, 
they  deal  and  traffic.  In  short,  words  are  the  great  instru 
ments  both  of  practice  and  design ;  which,  for  the  most  part, 
move  wholly  in  the  strength  of  them :  forasmuch  as  it  is  the 
nature  of  man  both  to  will  and  to  do  according  to  the  per 
suasion  he  has  of  the  good  and  evil  of  those  things  that  come 
before  him,  and  to  take  up  his  persuasions  according  to  the 
representations  made  to  him  of  those  qualities  by  their  re 
spective  names  or  appellations. 

This  is  the  true  and  natural  account  of  this  matter  ;  and  it 
is  all  that  I  shall  remark  upon  this  second  head.  I  proceed 
now  to  the 

3d.  Which  is,  to  show  the  mischief  which  directly,  natu 
rally,  and  unavoidably  follows  from  the  misapplication  and  con 
fusion  of  those  names.  And  in  order  to  this,  I  shall  premise 
these  two  considerations : 

1.  That  the  generality  of  mankind  is  wholly  and  absolutely 
governed  by  words  or  names ;  without,  nay,  for  the  most  part, 
even  against  the  knowledge  men  have  of  things.  The  multi 
tude,  or  common  rout,  like  a  drove  of  sheep,  or  a  herd  of 
oxen,  may  be  managed  by  any  noise  or  cry  which  their  drivers 
shall  accustom  them  to. 

And  he  who  will  set  up  for  a  skillful  manager  of  the  rabble, 


ISAIAH  v.  20.]  and  Force  of  Words.  427 

so  long  as  they  have  but  ears  to  hear,  needs  never  inquire 
whether  they  have  any  understanding  whereby  to  judge ;  but 
with  two  or  three  popular  empty  words,  such  as  popery  and 
superstition,  rigid  of  the  subject,  liberty  of  conscience.  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  well  tuned  and  humored,  may  whistle  them  backwards 
and  forwards,  upwards  and  downwards,  till  he  is  weary ;  and 
get  up  upon  their  backs  when  he  is  so. 

As  for  the  meaning  of  the  word  itself,  that  may  shift  for 
itself :  and  as  for  the  sense  and  reason  of  it,  that  has  little  or 
nothing  to  do  here ;  only  let  it  sound  full  and  round,  and 
chime  right  to  the  humor,  which  is  at  present  agog,  (just  as 
a  big,  long,  rattling  name  is  said  to  command  even  adoration 
from  a  Spaniard,)  and  no  doubt,  with  this  powerful  senseless 
engine,  the  rabble-driver  shall  be  able  to  carry  all  before  him, 
or  to  draw  all  after  him,  as  he  pleases.  For  a  plausible,  in 
significant  word,  in  the  mouth  of  an  expert  demagogue,  is  a 
dangerous  and  a  dreadful  weapon. 

You  know,  when  Caesar's  army  mutinied,  and  grew  trouble 
some,  no  argument  from  interest  or  reason  could  satisfy  or 
appease  them :  but  as  soon  as  he  gave  them  the  appellation  of 
Quirites,  the  tumult  was  immediately  hushed ;  and  all  were 
quiet  and  content,  and  took  that  one  word  in  good  payment 
for  all.  Such  is  the  trivial  slightness  and  levity  of  most 
minds.  And  indeed,  take  any  passion  of  the  soul  of  man, 
while  it  is  predominant  and  afloat,  and,  just  in  the  critical 
hight  of  it,  nick  it  with  some  lucky  or  unlucky  word,  and  you 
may  as  certainly  overrule  it  to  your  own  purpose,  as  a  spark 
of  fire,  falling  upon  gunpowder,  will  infallibly  blow  it  up. 

The  truth  is,  he  who  shall  duly  consider  these  matters,  will 
find  that  there  is  a  certain  bewitchery,  or  fascination  in 
words,  which  makes  them  operate  with  a  force  beyond  what 
we  can  naturally  give  an  account  of.  For  would  not  a  man 
think  ill  deeds  and  shrewd  turns  should  reach  further  and 
strike  deeper  than  ill  words  ?  And  yet  many  instances  might 
be  given  in  which  men  have  much  more  easily  pardoned  ill 
things  done,  than  ill  things  said  against  them :  such  a  peculiar 
rancor  and  venom  do  they  leave  behind  them  in  men's  minds, 
and  so  much  more  poisonously  and  incurably  does  the  serpent 
bite  with  his  tongue  than  with  his  teeth. 

Nor  are  men  prevailed  upon  at  this  odd  unaccountable  rate, 


428  Of  the  fatal  Imposture  [SERM.  xxi. 

by  bare  words,  only  through  a  defect  of  knowledge;  but 
sometimes  also  do  they  suffer  themselves  to  be  carried  away 
with  these  puffs  of  wind,  even  contrary  to  knowledge  and  ex 
perience  itself.  For  otherwise,  how  could  men  be  brought  to 
surrender  up  their  reason,  their  interest,  and  their  credit 
to  flattery  ?  gross,  fulsome,  abusive  flattery ;  indeed  more 
abusive  and  reproachful,  upon  a  true  estimate  of  things  and 
persons,  than  the  rudest  scoffs  and  the  sharpest  invectives. 
Yet  so  it  is,  that  though  men  know  themselves  utterly 
void  of  those  qualities  and  perfections  which  the  impudent 
sycophant,  at  the  same  time,  both  ascribes  to  them,  and  in 
his  sleeve  laughs  at  them  for  believing  ;  nay,  though  they 
know  that  the  flatterer  himself  knows  the  falsehood  of  his 
own  flatteries ;  yet  they  swallow  the  fallacious  morsel,  love 
the  impostor,  and  with  both  arms  hug  the  abuse ;  and  that  to 
such  a  degree,  that  no  offices  of  friendship,  no  real  services, 
shall  be  able  to  lie  in  the  balance  against  those  luscious  false 
hoods  which  flattery  shall  feed  the  mind  of  a  fool  in  power 
with :  the  sweetness  of  the  one  infinitely  overcomes  the  sub 
stance  of  the  other. 

And  therefore  you  shall  seldom  see,  that  such  an  one  cares 
to  have  men  of  worth,  honesty,  and  veracity  about  him ;  for 
such  persons  can  not  fall  down  and  worship  stocks  and  stones, 
though  they  are  placed  never  so  high  above  them ;  but  their 
yea  is  yea,  and  their  nay,  tiay  ;  and  they  can  not  admire  a  fox 
for  his  sincerity,  a  wolf  for  his  generosity,  nor  an  ass  for  his 
wit  and  ingenuity ;  and  therefore  can  never  be  acceptable  to 
those  whose  whole  credit,  interest,  and  advantage  lies  in  their 
not  appearing  to  the  world  what  they  are  really  in  themselves. 
None  are  or  can  be  welcome  to  such,  but  those  who  speak 
paint  and  wash ;  for  that  is  the  thing  they  love ;  and  no  won 
der,  since  it  is  the  thing  they  need. 

There  is  hardly  any  rank,  order,  or  degree  of  men,  but, 
more  or  less,  have  been  captivated  and  enslaved  by  words. 
It  is  a  weakness,  or  rather  a  fate,  which  attends  both  high 
and  low ;  the  statesman  who  holds  the  helm,  as  well  as  the 
peasant  who  holds  the  plough.  So  that,  if  ever  you  find  an 
ignoramus  in  place  and  power,  and  can  have  so  little  con 
science,  and  so  much  confidence,  as  to  tell  him  to  his  face 
that  he  has  a  wit  and  an  understanding  above  all  the  world 


ISAIAH  v.  20.]  and  Force  of  Words.  429 

besides ;  and  "  that  what  his  own  reason  can  not  suggest  to 
him,  neither  can  the  united  reason  of  all  mankind  put  to 
gether  ;  "  *  I  dare  undertake,  that,  as  fulsome  a  dose  as  you 
give  him,  he  shall  readily  take  it  down,  and  admit  the  com 
mendation,  though  he  can  not  believe  the  thing :  Blanditice, 
etlam  cum  excluduntur,  placent,  says  Seneca.  Tell  him,  that 
no  history  or  antiquity  can  match  his  policies  and  his  con 
duct  ;  and  presently  the  sot  (because  he  knows  neither  history 
nor  antiquity)  shall  begin  to  measure  himself  by  himself,  (which 
is  the  only  sure  way  for  him  not  to  fall  short,)  and  so  immedi 
ately,  amongst  his  outward  admirers  and  his  inward  despisers, 
vouched  also  by  a  teste  meipso,  he  steps  forth  an  exact  politi 
cian,  and,  by  a  wonderful  and  new  way  of  arguing,  proves  him 
self  no  fool,  because,  forsooth,  the  sycophant  who  tells  him  so 
is  an  egregious  knave. 

But  to  give  you  yet  a  grosser  instance  of  the  force  of  words, 
and  of  the  extreme  vanity  of  man's  nature  in  being  influenced 
by  them,  hardly  shall  you  meet  with  any  person,  man  or 
woman,  so  aged  or  ill-favored,  but,  if  you  will  venture  to  com 
mend  them  for  their  comeliness,  nay,  and  for  their  youth  too, 
though  "  time  out  of  mind  "  is  wrote  upon  every  line  of  their 
face ;  yet  they  shall  take  it  very  well  at  your  hands,  and  begin 
to  think  with  themselves  that  certainly  they  have  some  per 
fections  which  the  generality  of  the  world  are  not  so  happy  as 
to  be  aware  of. 

But  now,  are  not  these,  think  we,  strange  self-delusions, 
and  yet  attested  by  common  experience  almost  every  day  ? 
But  whence,  in  the  mean  time,  can  all  this  proceed,  but  from 
that  besotting  intoxication  which  this  verbal  magic,  as  I  may 
so  call  it,  brings  upon  the  mind  of  man  ?  For  can  any  thing 
in  nature  have  a  more  certain,  deep,  and  undeniable  effect, 
than  folly  has  upon  man's  mind,  and  age  upon  his  body? 
And  yet  we  see,  that  in  both  these,  words  are  able  to  per 
suade  men  out  of  what  they  find  and  feel,  to  reverse  the  very 
impressions  of  sense,  and  to  amuse  men  with  fancies  and 
paradoxes,  even  in  spite  of  nature  and  experience.  But  since 
it  would  be  endless  to  pursue  all  the  particulars  in  which  this 
humor  shows  itself,  whosoever  would  have  one  full,  lively, 
and  complete  view  of  an  empty,  shallow,  self-opinioned  gran- 

*  The  words  of  a  great  self-opiniator,  and  a  bitter  reviler  of  the  clergy. 


430  Of  the  fatal  Imposture  [SERM.  xxi. 

dee,  surrounded  by  his  flatterers,  (like  a  choice  dish  of  meat 
by  a  company  of  fellows  commending  and  devouring  it  at 
the  same  time,)  let  him  cast  his  eye  upon  Ahab  in  the  midst 
of  his  false  prophets,  1  Kings  xxii.,  where  we  have  them 
all  with  one  voice  for  giving  him  a  cast  of  their  court- 
prophecy,  and  sending  him,  in  a  compliment,  to  be  knocked 
on  the  head  at  Ramoth  Gilead.  But,  says  Jehoshaphat,  (who 
smelt  the  parasite  through  the  prophet,)  in  the  seventh  verse, 
Is  there  not  a  prophet  of  the  Lord  besides,  that  we  may  inquire 
of  him  ?  Why,  yes,  says  Ahab,*£ftere  is  yet  one  man  by  whom 
we  may  inquire  of  the  Lord  ;  but  I  hate  him,  for  he  doth  not 
prophesy  good  concerning  me,  but  evil.  Ay !  that  was  his 
crime;  the  poor  man  was  so  good  a  subject,  and  so  bad  a 
courtier,  as  to  venture  to  serve  and  save  his  prince,  whether 
he  would  or  no  ;  for,  it  seems,  to  give  Ahab  such  warning  as 
might  infallibly  have  prevented  his  destruction,  was  esteemed 
by  him  evil ;  and  to  push  him  on  headlong  into  it,  because  he 
was  fond  of  it,  was  accounted  good.  These  were  his  new 
measures  of  good  and  evil.  And  therefore  those  who  knew 
how  to  make  thsir  court  better,  (as  the  word  is,)  tell  him  a 
bold  lie  in  God's  name,  and  therewith  send  him  packing  to 
his  certain  doom ;  thus  calling  evil  good  at  the  cost  of  their 
prince's  crown  and  his  life  too.  But  what  cared  they  ?  they 
knew  that  it  would  please,  and  that  was  enough  for  them ; 
there  being  always  a  sort  of  men  in  the  world  (whom  others 
have  an  interest  to  serve  by)  who  had  rather  a  great  deal  be 
pleased  than  be  safe.  Strike  them  under  the  fifth  rib,  pro 
vided  at  the  same  time  you  kiss  them  too,  as  Joab  served 
Abner,  and  you  may  both  destroy  and  oblige  them  with  the 
same  blow. 

Accordingly,  in  the  thirtieth  of  Isaiah,  we  find  some  ar 
rived  to  that  pitch  of  sottishness,  and  so  much  in  love  with 
their  own  ruin,  as  to  own  plainly  and  roundly  what  they 
would  be  at ;  in  the  tenth  verse,  Prophesy  not  unto  us,  say 
they,  right  things,  but  prophesy  to  us  smooth  things.  As  if  they 
had  said,  "  Do  but  oil  the  razor  for  us,  and  let  us  alone  to 
cut  our  own  throats."  Such  an  enchantment  is  there  in 
words ;  and  so  fine  a  thing  does  it  seem  to  some  to  be  ruined 
plausibly,  and  to  be  ushered  to  their  destruction  with  pane 
gyric  and  acclamation  :  a  shameful,  though  irrefragable  argu- 


ISAIAH  v.  20.]  and  Force  of  Words.  431 

ment,  of  the  absurd  empire  and  usurpation  of  words  over 
thing's ;  and  that  the  greatest  affairs  and  most  important  in 
terests  of  the  world  are  carried  on  by  things,  not  as  they  are, 
but  as  they  are  called. 

And  thus  much  for  the  first  thing-  which  I  thought  neces 
sary  to  premise  to  the  prosecution  of  our  third  particular. 

2.  The  other  thing  to  be  premised  is  this ;  That  as  the 
generality  of  men  are  wholly  governed  by  names  and  words, 
so  there  is  nothing  in  which  they  are  so  remarkably  and 
powerfully  governed  by  them,  as  in  matters  of  good  and  evil, 
so  far  as  these  qualities  relate  to,  and  affect  the  actions  of, 
men  :  a  thing  certainly  of  a  most  fatal  and  pernicious  import. 
For  though,  in  matters  of  mere  speculation,  it  is  not  much 
the  concern  of  society  whether  or  no  men  proceed  wholly 
upon  trust,  and  take  the  bare  word  of  others  for  what  they 
assent  to ;  since  it  is  not  much  material  to  the  welfare  either 
of  government  or  of  themselves  whether  they  opine  right  or 
wrong,  and  whether  they  be  philosophers  or  no.  But  it  is 
vastly  the  concern  both  of  government  and  of  themselves  too, 
whether  they  be  morally  good  or  bad,  honest  or  dishonest. 
And  surely  it  is  hardly  possible  for  men  to  make  it  their 
business  to  be  virtuous  or  honest,  while  vices  are  called  and 
pointed  out  to  them  by  the  names  of  virtues;  and  they  all 
the  while  suppose  the  nature  of  things  to  be  truly  and  faith 
fully  signified  by  their  names,  and  thereupon  believe  as  they 
hear,  and  practice  as  they  believe.  And  that  this  is  the 
course  of  much  the  greatest  part  of  the  world,  thus  to  take 
up  their  persuasions  concerning  good  and  evil  by  an  implicit 
faith,  and  a  full  acquiescence  in  the  word  of  those  who  shall 
represent  things  to  them  under  these  characters,  I  shall  prove 
by  two  reasons ;  and  those  such  as,  I  fear,  will  not  only  be 
found  reasons  to  evince  that  men  actually  do  so,  but  also  sad 
demonstrations  to  conclude  that  they  are  never  like  to  do 
otherwise. 

First,  The  first  of  which  shall  be  taken  from  that  similitude, 
neighborhood,  and  affinity,  which  is  between  vice  and  virtue, 
good  and  evil,  in  several  notable  instances  of  each.  For 
though  the  general  natures  and  definitions  of  these  qualities 
are  sufficiently  distant  from  one  another,  and  so  in  no  danger 
of  a  promiscuous  confusion ;  yet  when  they  come  to  subsist 


432  Of  the  fatal  Imposture      t  [SEKM.  xxi. 

in  particulars,  and  to  be  clothed  and  attended  with  several 
accidents  and  circumstances,  the  case  is  hereby  much  altered  ; 
for  then  the  discernment  is  neither  so  easy,  nor  yet  so  cer 
tain.  Thus  it  is  not  always  so  obvious  to  distinguish  between 
an  act  of  liberality  and  an  act  of  prodigality ;  between  an  act 
of  courage  and  an  act  of  rashness ;  an  act  of  pusillanimity, 
and  an  act  of  great  modesty  or  humility :  nay,  and  some  have 
had  the  good  luck  to  have  their  very  dullness  dignified  with 
the  name  of  gravity.,  and  to  be  no  small  gainers  by  the  mis 
take.  And  many  more  such  actions  of  dubious  quality  might 
be  instanced  in,  too  numerous  to  be  here  recounted  or  insisted 
on.  In  all  which,  and  the  like,  it  requiring  too  great  a  sa 
gacity  for  vulgar  minds  to  draw  the  line  nicely  and  exactly 
between  vice  and  virtue,  and  to  adjust  the  due  limits  of  each ; 
it  is  no  wonder  if  most  men  attempt  not  a  laborious  scrutiny 
into  things  themselves,  but  only  take  names  and  words  as 
they  first  come,  and  so  without  any  more  ado  rest  in  them ;  it 
being  so  much  easier,  in  all  disquisitions  of  truth,  to  suppose 
than  to  prove^  and  to  believe  than  to  distinguish. 

Secondly,  The  other  reason  of  the  same  shall  be  taken 
from  the  great  and  natural  inability  of  most  men  to  judge 
exactly  of  things  ;  which  makes  it  very  difficult  for  them  to 
discern  the  real  good  and  evil  of  what  comes  before  them ;  to 
consider  and  weigh  circumstances,  to  scatter  and  look  through 
the  mists  of  error,  and  so  separate  appearances  from  realities. 
For  the  greater  part  of  mankind  is  but  slow  and  dull  of  ap 
prehension,  and  therefore,  in  many  cases,  under  a  necessity 
of  seeing  with  other  men's  eyes,  and  judging  with  other  men's 
understandings ;  nature  having  manifestly  contrived  things 
so,  that  the  vulgar  and  the  many  are  fit  only  to  be  led  or 
driven,  but  by  no  means  fit  to  guide  or  direct  themselves. 

To  which  their  want  of  judging  or  discerning  abilities,  we 
may  add  also  their  want  of  leisure  and  opportunity  to  apply 
their  minds  to  such  a  serious  and  attent  consideration  as  may 
let  them  Into  a  full  discovery  of  the  true  goodness  and  evil  of 
things,  which  are  qualities  which  seldom  display  themselves 
to  the  first  view :  for  in  most  things  good  and  evil  lie  shuffled 
and  thrust  up  together  in  a  confused  heap ;  and  it  is  study 
and  intention  of  thought  which  must  draw  them  forth,  and 
range  them  under  their  distinct  heads.  But  there  can  be  no 


ISAIAH  v.  20.]  and  Force  of  Words.  433 

study  without  time  ;  and  the  mind  must  abide  and  dwell  upon 
things,  or  be  always  a  stranger  to  the  inside  of  them. 
Through  desire,  says  Solomon,  a  man  having  separated  himself, 
seekethand  intermeddleth  with  all  wisdom,  Prov.  xviii.  1.  There 
must  be  leisure  and  a  retirement,  solitude,  and  a  sequestra 
tion  of  a  man's  self  from  the  noise  and  toil  of  the  world  :  for 
truth  scorns  to  be  seen  by  eyes  too  much  fixed  upon  inferior 
objects.  It  lies  too  deep  to  be  fetched  up  with  the  plow, 
and  too  close  to  be  beaten  out  with  the  hammer.  It  dwells 
not  in  shops  or  workhouses ;  nor  till  the  late  age  was  it  ever 
known  that  any  one  served  seven  years  to  a  smith  or  a  tailor, 
that  he  might  at  the  end  thereof  proceed  master  of  any 
other  arts  but  such  as  those  trades  taught  him ;  and  much 
less  that  he  should  commence  doctor  or  divine  from  the  shop- 
board  or  the  anvil ;  or  from  whistling  to  a  team,  come  to 
preach  to  a  congregation. 

These  were  the  peculiar,  extraordinary  privileges  of  the  late 
blessed  times  of  light  and  inspiration  :  otherwise  nature  will 
still  hold  on  in  its  old  course,  never  doing  any  thing  which  is 
considerable,  without  the  assistance  of  its  two  great  helps, 
art  and  industry.  But  above  all,  the  knowledge  of  what  is 
good  and  what  is  evil,  what  ought  and  what  ought  not  to  be 
done,  in  the  several  offices  and  relations  of  life,  is  a  thing  too 
large  to  be  compassed,  and  too  hard  to  be  mastered,  without 
brains  and  study,  parts  and  contemplation ;  which  providence 
never  thought  fit  to  make  much  the  greatest  part  of  mankind 
possessors  of.  And  consequently  those  who  are  not  so,  must, 
for  the  knowledge  of  most  things,  depend  upon  those  who 
are,  and  receive  their  information  concerning  good  and  evil 
from  such  verbal  or  nominal  representations  of  each  as  shall 
be  imparted  to  them  by  those  whose  ability  and  -integrity 
they  have  cause  to  rely  upon  for  a  faithful  account  of  these 
matters. 

And  thus  from  these  two  great  considerations  premised ; 
1st,  That  the  generality  of  the  world  are  wholly  governed  by 
words  and  names ;  and  2dly,  That  the  chief  instance  in  which 
they  are  so,  is  in  such  words  and  names  as  import  the  good 
or  evil  of  things ;  (which  both  the  difficulty  of  things  them 
selves,  and  the  very  condition  of  human  nature,  constrains 
much  the  greatest  part  of  mankind  to  take  wholly  upon 

VOL.  i.  28 


434  Of  the  fatal  Imposture  [SERM.  XXL 

trust ;)  I  say,  from  these  two  considerations  must  needs  be 
inferred,  what  a  fatal,  devilish,  and  destructive  effect  the 
misapplication  and  confusion  of  those  great  governing  names 
of  good  and  evil  must  inevitably  have  upon  the  societies  of 
men  ;  the  comprehensive  mischief  of  which  will  appear  from 
this,  that  it  takes  in  both  those  ways  by  which  the  greatest 
evils  and  calamities  which  are  incident  to  man  do  directly 
break  in  upon  him. 

The  first  of  which  is  by  his  being  deceived,  and  the  second 
by  his  being  misrepresented.  And  first,  for  the  first  of  these. 
I  do  not  in  the  least  doubt,  but  if  a  true  and  just  computation 
could  be  made  of  all  the  miseries  and  misfortunes  that  befall 
men  in  this  world,  two  thirds  of  them,  at  least,  would  be 
found  resolvable  into  their  being  deceived  by  false  appear 
ances  of  good ;  first  deluding  their  apprehensions,  and  then 
by  natural  consequence  perverting  their  actions,  from  which 
are  the  great  issues  of  life  and  death ;  since,  according  to  the 
eternal  sanction  of  God  and  nature,  such  as  a  man's  actions 
are  for  good  or  evil,  such  ought  also  his  condition  to  be  for 
happiness  or  misery. 

Now  all  deception  in  the  course  of  life  is  indeed  nothing 
else  but  a  lie  reduced  to  practice,  and  falsehood  passing  from 
words  into  things. 

For  is  a  man  impoverished  and  undone  by  the  purchase 
of  an  estate  ?  Why,  it  is  because  he  bought  an  imposture, 
paid  down  his  money  for  a  lie,  and  by  the  help  of  the  best 
and  ablest  counsel,  forsooth,  that  could  be  had,  took  a  bad 
title  for  a  good. 

Is  a  man  unfortunate  in  marriage  ?  Still  it  is  because  he 
was  deceived ;  and  put  his  neck  into  the  snare  before  he  put 
it  into  the  yoke,  and  so  took  that  for  virtue  and  affection 
which  was  nothing  but  vice  in  a  disguise,  and  a  devilish  hu 
mor  under  a  demure  look. 

Is  he  again  unhappy  and  calamitous  in  his  friendships? 
Why,  in  this  also  it  is  because  he  built  upon  the  air,  and 
trod  upon  a  quicksand,  and  took  that  for  kindness  and  sin 
cerity  which  was  only  malice  and  design,  seeking  an  oppor 
tunity  to  ruin  him  effectually,  and  to  overturn  him  in  all  his 
interests  by  the  sure  but  fatal  handle  of  his  own  good  nature 
and  credulity. 


ISAIAH  v.  20.]  and  Force  of  Words.  435 

And  lastly,  is  a  man  betrayed,  lost,  and  blown  by  such 
agents  and  instruments  as  he  employs  in  his  greatest  and 
nearest  concerns  ?  Why,  still  the  cause  of  it  is  from  this,  that 
he  misplaced  his  confidence,  took  hypocrisy  for  fidelity,  and 
so  relied  upon  the  services  of  a  pack  of  villains,  who  designed 
nothing  but  their  own  game,  and  to  stake  him,  while  they 
played  for  themselves. 

But  not  to  mention  any  more  particulars,  there  is  no  estate, 
office,  or  condition  of  life  whatsoever,  but  groans  and  labors 
under  the  killing  truth  of  what  we  have  asserted. 

For  it  is  this  which  supplants  not  only  private  persons, 
but  kingdoms  and  governments,  by  keeping  them  ignorant  of 
their  own  strengths  and  weaknesses ;  and  it  is  evident  that 
governments  may  be  equally  destroyed  by  an  ignorance  of 
either.  For  the  weak,  by  thinking  themselves  strong,  are 
induced  to  venture  and  proclaim  war  against  that  which  ruins 
them :  and  the  strong,  by  conceiting  themselves  weak,  are 
thereby  rendered  as  unactive,  and  consequently  as  useless,  as 
if  they  really  were  so.  In  Luke  xiv.  31,  when  a  Iking  with  ten 
thousand  is  to  meet  a  king  coming  against  him  with  twenty  thou 
sand,  our  Saviour  advises  him,  before  he  ventures  the  issue 
of  a  battle,  to  sit  down  and  consider.  But  now  a  false  glozing 
parasite  would  give  him  quite  another  kind  of  counsel,  and 
bid  him  only  reckon  his  ten  thousand  forty,  call  his  fool-hard 
iness  valor,  and  then  he  may  go  on  boldly,  because  blindly, 
and  by  mistaking  himself  for  a  lion,  come  to  perish  like  an  ass. 

In  short,  it  is  this  great  plague  of  the  world,  deception, 
which  takes  wrong  measures,  and  makes  false  musters  almost 
in  every  thing ;  which  sounds  a  retreat  instead  of  a  charge, 
and  a  charge  instead  of  a  retreat ;  which  overthrows  whole 
armies ;  and  sometimes  by  one  lying  word  treacherously  cast 
out,  turns  the  fate  and  fortune  of  states  and  empires,  and 
lays  the  most  flourishing  monarchies  in  the  dust.  A  blind 
guide  is  certainly  a  great  mischief;  but  a  guide  that  blinds 
those  whom  he  should  lead  is  undoubtedly  a  much  greater. 

Secondly,  The  other  great  and  undoing  mischief  which 
befalls  men  upon  the  forementioned  account  is,  by  their  being 
misrepresented.  Now  as  by  calling  evil  good,  a  man  is  mis 
represented  to  himself  in  the  way  of  flattery,  so  by  calling 
good  evil  he  is  misrepresented  to  others  in  the  way  of  slan- 


436  Of  the  fatal  Imposture  [SERM.  xxi. 

der  and  detraction.  I  say  detraction,  that  killing1,  poisoned 
arrow  drawn  out  of  the  devil's  quiver,  which  is  always  flying 
abroad,  and  doing-  execution  in  the  dark ;  against  which  no 
virtue  is  a  defense,  no  innocence  a  security.  For  as  by  flat 
tery  a  man  is  usually  brought  to  open  his  bosom  to  his  mortal 
enemy,  so  by  detraction,  and  a  slanderous  misreport  of  per 
sons,  he  is  often  brought  to  shut  the  same  even  to  his  best 
and  truest  friends.  In  both  cases  he  receives  a  fatal  blow, 
since  that  which  lays  a  man  open  to  an  enemy,  and  that  which 
strips  him  of  a  friend,  equally  attacks  him  in  all  those  inter 
ests  that  are  capable  of  being  weakened  by  the  one  and  sup 
ported  by  the  other. 

The  most  direct  and  efficacious  way  to  ruin  any  man,  is  to 
misrepresent  him ;  and  it  often  so  falls  out  that  it  wounds  on 
both  sides,  and  not  only  mauls  the  person  misrepresented,  but 
him  also  to  whom  he  is  misrepresented  :  for  if  he  be  great 
and  powerful,  (as  spies  and  pickthanks  seldom  apply  to  any 
others,)  it  generally  provokes  him  through  mistake  to  perse 
cute  and  tyrannize  over,  nay,  and  sometimes  even  to  dip  his 
hands  in  the  blood  of  the  innocent  and  the  just,  and  thereby 
involve  himself  in  such  a  guilt  as  shall  arm  heaven  and  earth 
against  him,  the  vengeance  of  God,  and  the  indignation  of 
men ;  who  will  both  espouse  the  quarrel  of  a  bleeding  inno 
cence,  and  heartily  join  forces  against  an  insulting  baseness, 
especially  when  backed  with  greatness,  and  set  on  by  misin 
formation.  Histories  are  full  of  such  examples. 

Besides  that,  it  is  rarely  found  that  men  hold  their  great 
ness  for  term  of  life ;  though  their  baseness,  for  the  most 
part,  they  do  ;  and  then,  according  to  the  common  vicissitude 
and  wheel  of  things,  the  proud  and  the  insolent  must  take 
their  turn  too ;  and  after  long  trampling  upon  others,  come 
at  length,  plaudente  et  gaudente  mundo,  to  be  trampled  upon 
themselves.  For,  as  Tully  has  it  in  his  oration  for  Milo, 
non  semper  viator  a  latrone,  mnnunquam  etiam  latro  a  viatore 
occiditur. 

But  to  pass  from  particulars  to  communities,  nothing  can  be 
imagined  more  destructive  to  society  tban  this  villainous  prac 
tice.  For  it  robs  the  public  of  all  that  benefit  and  advantage 
that  it  may  justly  claim  and  ought  to  receive  from  the  worth 
and  virtue  of  particular  persons,  by  rendering  their  virtue  ut- 


ISAIAH  v.  20.]  and  Force  of  Words.  437 

terly  insignificant.  For  good  itself  can  do  no  good  while  it 
passes  for  evil ;  and  an  honest  man  is,  in  effect,  useless,  while 
he  is  accounted  a  knave.  Both  things  and  persons  subsist  by 
their  reputation. 

An  unjust  sentence  from  a  tribunal  may  condemn  an  inno 
cent  person,  but  misrepresentation  condemns  innocence  itself. 
For  it  is  this  which  revives  and  imitates  that  inhuman  bar 
barity  of  the  old  heathen  persecutors',  wrapping  up  Christians 
in  the  skins  of  wild  beasts,  that  so  they  might  be  worried  and 
torn  in  pieces  by  dogs.  Do  but  paint  an  angel  black,  and 
that  is  enough  to  make  him  pass  for  a  devil.  "  Let  us  blacken 
him,  let  us  blacken  him  what  we  can,"  said  that  miscreant 
Harrison  *  of  the  blessed  king,  upon  the  wording  and  draw 
ing  up  his  charge  against  his  approaching  trial.  And  when 
any  man  is  to  be  run  down,  and  sacrificed  to  the  lust  of  his 
enemies,  as  that  royal  martyr  was,  even  his  good  (according  to 
the  apostle's  phrase)  shall  be  evil  spoken  of.  He  must  first  be 
undermined,  and  then  undone.  The  practice  is  usual,  and 
the  method  natural.  But,  to  give  you  the  whole  malice  of  it 
in  one  word,  it  is  a  weapon  forged  in  hell,  and  formed  by  the 
prime  artificer  and  engineer  of  all  mischief,  the  devil;  and 
none  but  that  God  who  knows  all  things,  and  can  do  all  things, 
can  protect  the  best  of  men  against  it. 

To  which  God,  the  fountain  of  all  good,  and  the  hater  of  all 
evil,  be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise, 
might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for  evermore. 
Amen. 

*  A  preaching  colonel  of  the  parlia-  Cursed  be  he  who  does  the   work  of  the 

ment-army,  and  a  chief  actor  in  the  Lord  negligently.     He  was  by  extraction 

murder  of  King  Charles  the  First;  not-  a  butcher's  son;  and  accordingly,   in 

able  before  for  having  killed  several  his  practices  all  along,  more  a  butcher 

after  quarter   given  them   by   others,  than  his  father, 
and  using  these  words  in  the  doing  it ; 


SERMON  XXII. 

PREVENTION   OF   SIN   AN   INVALUABLE   MERCY: 

OB  A  SERMON  PREACHED  UPON  THAT  SUBJECT  ON  1  SAMUEL,  XXV.  32,  83, 
AT  CHKIST  CHURCH,  OXON,   NOVEMBER  10,  1678. 


1  SAMUEL  xxv.  32,  33.  —  And  David  said  to  Abigail,  Blessed  be  the  Lord  God  of 

Israel,  which  sent  thee  this  day  to  meet  me. 
And  blessed  be  thy  advice,  and  blessed  be  thou,  which  hast  kept  me  this  day  from  coming 

to  shed  blood,  and  from  avenging  myself  with  mine  own  hand. 

THESE  words  are  David's  retractation,  or  laying  down  of 
a  bloody  and  revengeful  resolution ;  which,  for  a  while, 
his  heart  had  swelled  with,  and  carried  him  on  with  the 
highest  transport  of  rage  to  prosecute.  A  resolution  took  up 
from  the  sense  of  a  gross  indignity  and  affront  passed  upon 
him,  in  recompense  of  a  signal  favor  and  kindness  received 
from  him.  For  during  his  exile  and  flight  before  Saul,  in 
which  he  was  frequently  put  to  all  the  hardships  which  usu- 
'ally  befall  the  weak  flying  before  the  strong ;  there  happening 
a  great  and  solemn  festivity,  such  as  the  sheep-shearings  used 
to  be  in  those  eastern  countries,  he  condescends,  by  an  hon 
orable  and  kind  message,  to  beg  of  a  rich  and  great  man 
some  small  repast  and  supply  for  himself  and  his  poor  har 
assed  companions,  at  that  notable  time  of  joy  and  feasting : 
a  time  that  might  make  any  thing  that  looked  like  want  or 
hunger  no  less  an  absurdity  than  a  misery  to  all  that  were 
round  about  him.  And,  as  if  the  greatness  of  the  asker,  and 
the  smallness  of  the  thing  asked,  had  not  been  sufficient  to 
enforce  his  request,  he  adds  a  commemoration  of  his  own 
generous  and  noble  usage  of  the  person  whom  he  thus  ad 
dressed  to ;  showing  how  that  he  had  been  a  wall  and  a  bul- 


1  SAM.  xxv.  32, 33.]     Prevention  of  Sin  an  invaluable  Mercy.     439 

wark  to  all  that  belonged  to  him,  a  safeguard  to  his  estate, 
and  a  keeper  of  his  flocks ;  and  that  both  from  the  violence 
of  robbers,  and  the  license  of  his  own  soldiers ;  who  could 
much  more  easily  have  carved  themselves  their  own  provisions 
than  so  great  a  spirit  stoop  so  low  as  to  ask  them. 

But  in  answer  to  this,  (as  nothing  is  so  rude  and  insolent 
as  a  wealthy  rustic,)  all  this  his  kindness  is  overlooked,  his 
request  rejected,  and  his  person  most  unworthily  railed  at. 
Such  being  the  nature  of  some  base  minds,  that  they  can 
never  do  ill  turns  but  they  must  double  them  with  ill  words 
too.  And  thus  David's  messengers  are  sent  back  to  him  like 
so  many  sharks  and  runagates,  only  for  endeavoring  to  com 
pliment  an  ill  nature  out  of  itself,  and  seeking  that  by  peti 
tion  which  they  might  have  commanded  by  their  sword. 

And  now,  who  would  not  but  think  that  such  ungrateful 
usage,  hightened  with  such  reproachful  language,  might  war 
rant  the  justice  of  the  sharpest  revenge ;  even  of  such  a 
revenge  as  now  began  to  boil  and  burn  in  the  breast  of  this 
great  warrior  ?  For  surely,  if  any  thing  may  justly  call  up  the 
utmost  of  a  man's  rage,  it  should  be  bitter  and  contumelious 
words  from  an  unprovoked  inferior ;  and  if  any  thing  can 
legalize  revenge,  it  should  be  injuries  from  an  extremely 
obliged  person.  But  for  all  this,  revenge,  we  see,  is  so  much 
the  prerogative  of  the  Almighty,  so  absolutely  the  peculiar  of 
Heaven,  that  no  consideration  whatsoever  can  empower  even 
the  best  men  to  assume  the  execution  of  it  in  their  own  case. 
And  therefore  David,  by  an  happy  and  seasonable  pacification, 
being  took  off  from  acting  that  bloody  tragedy  which  he  was 
just  now  entering  upon,  and  so  turning  his  eyes  from  the 
baseness  of  him  who  had  stirred  up  his  revenge,  to  the  good 
ness  of  that  God  who  had  prevented  it ;  he  breaks  forth  into 
these  triumphant  praises  and  doxologies  expressed  in  the  text : 
Blessed  be  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  who  has  kept  me  this  day 
from  shedding  blood,  and  from  avenging  myself  with  my  own 
liand. 

Which  words,  together  with  those  going  before  in  the  same 
verse,  naturally  afford  us  this  doctrinal  proposition,  which 
shall  be  the  subject  of  the  following  discourse :  namely,  That 
prevention  of  sin  is  one  of  the  greatest  mercies  that  God  can 
vouchsafe  a  man  in  this  world. 


440  Prevention  of  Sin  [SERM.  xxn. 

The  prosecution  of  which  shall  lie  in  these  two  things : 
first,  to  prove  the  proposition ;  secondly,  to  apply  it. 

And  first,  for  the  proof  of  it :  the  transcendent  greatness  of 
this  sin-preventing  mercy  is  demonstrable  from  these  four 
following  considerations : 

1.  Of  the  condition   which   the   sinner  is   in   when   this 
mercy  is  vouchsafed  him. 

2.  Of  the  principle  or  fountain  from  whence  this  preven 
tion  of  sin  does  proceed. 

3.  Of  the  hazard   a  man   runs,  if  the   commission  of  sin 
be  not  prevented,  whether  ever  it  will  come  to  be  pardoned  : 
and, 

4thly  and  lastly,  Of  the  advantages  accruing  to  the  soul 
from  the  prevention  of  sin,  above  what  can  be  had  from  the 
bare  pardon  of  it,  in  case  it  comes  to  be  pardoned. 

Of  these  in  their  order :  and  first,  we  are  to  take  an  es 
timate  of  the  greatness  of  this  mercy,  from  the  condition  it 
finds  the  sinner  in  when  God  is  pleased  to  vouchsafe  it  to 
him.  It  finds  him  in  the  direct  way  to  death  and  destruc 
tion  ;  and,  which  is  worse,  wholly  unable  to  help  himself. 
For  he  is  actually  under  the  power  of  a  temptation  and  the 
sway  of  an  impetuous  lust ;  both  hurrying  him  on  to  satisfy 
the  cravings  of  it  by  some  wicked  action.  He  is  possessed 
and  acted  by  a  passion  which,  for  the  present,  absolutely 
overrules  him ;  and  so  can  no  more  recover  himself  than  a 
bowl  rolling  down  a  hill  stop  itself  in  the  midst  of  its  career. 
It  is  a  maxim  in  the  philosophy  of  some,  that  whatsoever 
is  once  in  actual  motion,  will  move  forever,  if  it  be  not  hin 
dered. 

So  a  man,  being  under  the  drift  of  any  passion,  will  still 
follow  the  impulse  of  it,  till  something  interpose  and  by  a 
stronger  impulse  turn  him  another  way :  but  in  this  case  we 
can  find  no  principle  within  him  strong  enough  to  counteract 
that  principle,  and  to  relieve  him.  For  if  it  be  any,  it  must 
be  either,  first,  the  judgment  of  his  reason,  or,  secondly,  the 
free  choice  of  his  will. 

But  from  the  first  of  these  there  can  be  no  help  for  him  in 
his  present  condition.  For  while  a  man  is  engaged  in  any 
sinful  purpose,  through  the  prevalence  of  any  passion,  during 
the  continuance  of  that  passion  he  fully  approves  of  what- 


i  SAM.  xxv.  32, 33.]  an  invaluable  Mercy.  441 

soever  he  is  carried  on  to  do  in  the  strength  of  it ;  and  judges 
it,  under  his  present  circumstances,  the  best  and  most  rational 
course  that  he  can  take.  Thus  we  see  when  Jonas  was  under 
the  passion  of  anger,  and  God  asked  him,  Whether  he  did  well 
to  be  angry  ?  he  answered,  I  do  well  to  be  anyry,  even  unto 
death,  Jonas  iv.  9.  And  when  Saul  was  under  his  persecuting 
fit,  what  he  did  appeared  to  him  good  and  necessary,  Acts 
xx vi.  9 ;  /  verily  thought  with  myself  that  I  ought  to  do  many 
things  contrary  to  tJie  name  of  Jesus.  But  to  go  no  further 
than  the  text ;  do  we  not  think  that  while  David's  heart  was 
full  of  his  revengeful  design,  it  had  blinded  and  perverted  his 
reason  so  far  that  it  struck  in  wholly  with  his  passion,  and 
told  him  that  the  bloody  purpose  he  was  going  to  execute 
was  just,  magnanimous,  and  most  becoming  such  a  person, 
and  so  dealt  with,  as  he  was  ?  This  being  so,  how  is  it  pos 
sible  for  a  man  under  a  passion  to  receive  any  succor  from  his 
judgment  or  reason,  which  is  made  a  party  in  the  whole  action, 
and  influenced  to  a  present  approbation  of  all  the  ill  things 
which  his  passion  can  suggest  ?  This  is  most  certain ;  and 
every  man  may  find  it  by  experience,  (if  he  will  but  impartially 
reflect  upon  the  method  of  his  own  actings,  and  the  motions 
of  his  own  mind,)  that  while  he  is  under  any  passion,  he 
thinks  and  judges  quite  otherwise  of  the  proper  objects  of 
that  passion,  from  what  he  does  when  he  is  out  of  it.  Take 
a  man  under  the  transports  of  a  vehement  rage  or  revenge, 
and  he  passes  a  very  different  judgment  upon  murder  and 
bloodshed  from  what  he  does  when  his  revenge  is  over  and 
the  flame  of  his  fury  spent.  Take  a  man  possessed  with  a 
strong  and  immoderate  desire  of  any  thing,  and  you  shall 
find  that  the  worth  and  excellency  of  that  thing  appears 
much  greater  and  more  dazzling  to  the  eye  of  his  mind  than 
it  does  when  that  desire,  either  by  satisfaction  or  otherwise, 
is  quite  extinguished.  So  that  while  passion  is  upon  the 
wing,  and  the  man  fully  engaged  in  the  prosecution  of  some 
unlawful  object,  no  remedy  or  control  is  to  be  expected  from 
his  reason,  which  is  wholly  gained  over  to  judge  in  favor  of 
it.  The  fumes  of  his  passion  do  as  really  intoxicate  and  con 
found  his  judging  and  discerning  faculty,  as  the  fumes  of 
drink  discompose  and  stupefy  the  brain  of  a  man  overcharged 
with  it.  When  his  drink  indeed  is  over,  he  sees  the  folly  and 


442  Prevention  of  Sin  [SERM.  xxn. 

the  absurdity,  the  madness  and  the  vileness  of  those  things 
which  before  he  acted  with  full  complacency  and  approbation. 
Passion  is  the  drunkenness  of  the  mind ;  and  therefore,  in  its 
present  workings,  not  controllable  by  reason ;  forasmuch  as 
the  proper  effect  of  it  is,  for  the  time,  to  supersede  the  work 
ings  of  reason.  This  principle  therefore  being  able  to  do 
nothing  to  the  stopping  of  a  man  in  the  eager  pursuit  of  his 
sin,  there  remains  no  other  that  can  be  supposed  able  to  do 
any  thing  upon  the  soul,  but  that  second  mentioned,  to  wit, 
the  choice  of  his  will.  But  this  also  is  as  much  disabled  from 
recovering  a  man  fully  intent  upon  the  prosecution  of  any 
of  his  lusts,  as  the  former.  For  all  the  time  that  a  man 
is  so,  he  absolutely  wills,  and  is  fully  pleased  with  what  he  is 
designing  or  going  about.  And  whatsoever  perfectly  pleases 
the  will,  overpowers  it ;  for  it  fixes  and  determines  the  incli 
nation  of  it  to  that  one  thing  which  is  before  it ;  and  so  fills 
up  all  its  possibilities  of  indifference,  that  there  is  actually  no 
room  for  choice.  He  who  is  under  the  power  of  melancholy, 
is  pleased  with  his  being  so.  He  who  is  angry,  delights  in 
nothing  so  much  as  in  the  venting  of  his  rage.  And  he  who 
is  lustful,  places  his  greatest  satisfaction  in  a  slavish  following 
of  the  dictates  of  his  lust.  And  so  long  as  the  will  and  the 
affections  are  pleased,  and  exceedingly  gratified  in  any  course 
of  acting,  it  is  impossible  for  a  man,  so  far  as  he  is  at  his  own 
disposal,  not  to  continue  in  it ;  or,  by  any  principle  within 
him,  to  be  diverted  or  took  off  from  it. 

From  all  which  we  see,  that  when  a  man  has  took  up  a  full 
purpose  of  sinning,  he  is  hurried  on  to  it  in  the  strength  of  all 
those  principles  which  nature  has  given  him  to  act  by :  for  sin 
having  depraved  his  judgment,  and  got  possession  of  his  will, 
there  is  no  other  principle  left  him  naturally  by  which  he 
can  make  head  against  it.  Nor  is  this  all ;  but  to  these  in 
ternal  dispositions  to  sin,  add  the  external  opportunities  and 
occasions  concurring  with  them,  and  removing  all  lets  and 
rubs  out  of  the  way,  and,  as  it  were,  making  the  path  of 
destruction  plain  before  the  sinner's  face ;  so  that  he  may 
run  his  course  freely  and  without  interruption.  Nay,  when 
opportunities  shall  lie  so  fair  as  not  only  to  permit,  but 
even  to  invite,  and  further  a  progress  in  sin ;  so  that  the 
sinner  shall  set  forth  like  a  ship  launched  into  the  wide  sea, 


i  SAM.  xxv.  32, 33.]  an  invaluable  Mercy.  443 

not  only  well  built  and  rigged,  but  also  carried  on  with  full 
wind  and  tide,  to  the  port  or  place  it  is  bound  for  :  surely,  in 
this  case,  nothing-  under  heaven  can  be  imagined  able  to  stop 
or  countermand  a  sinner,  amidst  all  these  circumstances  pro 
moting  and  pushing  on  his  sinful  design.  For  all  that  can 
give  force  and  fury  to  motion,  both  from  within  and  from 
without,  jointly  meet  to  bear  him  forward  in  his  present 
attempt.  He  presses  on  like  a  horse  rushing  into  the  battle, 
and  all  that  should  withstand  him  giving  way  before  him. 

Now  under  this  deplorable  necessity  of  ruin  and  destruc 
tion  does  God's  preventing  grace  find  every  sinner,  when  it 
snatches  him  like  a  brand  out  of  the  fire,  and  steps  in  between 
the  purpose  and  the  commission  of  his  sin.  It  finds  him 
going  on  resolutely  in  the  high  and  broad  way  to  perdition ; 
which  yet  his  perverted  reason  tells  him  is  right,  and  his  will, 
pleasant.  And  therefore  he  has  no  power  of  himself  to  leave 
or  turn  out  of  it ;  but  he  is  ruined  jocundly  and  pleasantly, 
and  damned  according  to  his  heart's  desire.  And  can  there 
be  a  more  wretched  and  woful  spectacle  of  misery,  than  a 
man  in  such  a  condition?  a  man  pleasing  and  destroying 
himself  together?  a  man,  as  it  were,  doing  violence  to  dam 
nation,  and  taking  hell  by  force  ?  So  that  when  the  prevent 
ing  goodness  of  God  reaches  out  its  arm,  and  pulls  him  out 
of  this  fatal  path,  it  does  by  main  force  even  wrest  him  from 
himself,  and  save  him,  as  it  were,  against  his  will. 

But  neither  is  this  his  total  inability  to  recover  or  relieve 
himself  the,  worst  of  his  condition ;  but,  which  is  yet  much 
worse,  it  puts  him  into  a  state  of  actual  hostility  against,  and 
defiance  of,  that  almighty  God  from  whom  alone,  in  this 
helpless  and  forlorn  condition,  he  is  capable  of  receiving  help. 
For  surely,  while  a  man  is  going  on  in  a  full  purpose  of  sin, 
he  is  trampling  upon  all  law,  spitting  in  the  face  of  Heaven, 
and  provoking  his  Maker  in  the  highest  manner ;  so  that  none 
is  or  can  be  so  much  concerned  as  God  himself,  to  destroy  and 
cut  off  such  an  one,  and  to  vindicate  the  honor  of  his  great 
name,  by  striking  him  dead  in  his  rebellion.  And  this  brings 
us  to  the 

Second  thing  proposed ;  which  was  to  show,  What  is  the 
fountain  or  impulsive  cause  of  this  prevention  of  sin.  It  is 
perfectly  free  grace.  A  man  at  best,  upon  all  principles  of 


444  Prevention  of  Sin  [SKRM.  xxn. 

divinity  and  sound  philosophy,  is  incapable  of  meriting  any 
thing  from  God.  But  surely,  while  he  is  under  the  dominion 
of  sin,  and  engaged  in  full  design  and  purpose  to  commit  it, 
it  is  not  imaginable  what  can  be  found  in  him  to  oblige  the 
divine  grace  in  his  behalf.  For  he  is  in  high  and  actual  re 
bellion  against  the  only  giver  of  such  grace.  And  therefore 
it  must  needs  flow  from  a  redundant,  unaccountable  fullness 
of  compassion ;  showing  mercy  because  it  will  show  mercy  ; 
from  a  compassion  which  is  and  must  be  its  own  reason,  and 
can  have  no  argument  for  its  exercise  but  itself.  No  man  in 
the  strength  of  the  first  grace  can  merit  the  second,  (as  some 
fondly  speak,  for  reason  they  do  not,)  unless  a  beggar,  by  re 
ceiving  one  alms,  can  be  said  to  merit  another.  It  is-  not 
from  what  a  man  is,  or  what  he  has  done ;  from  any  virtue 
or  excellency,  any  preceding  worth  or  desert  in  him,  that 
God  is  induced  thus  to  interpose  between  him  and  ruin,  and 
so  stop  him  in  his  full  career  to  damnation.  No,  says  God, 
in  Ezek.  xvi.  6,  When  I  passed  by,  and  saw  thee  polluted  in 
thine  own  blood,  I  said  unto  theey  Live  ;  yea,  I  said  unto  thee, 
when  thou  wast  in  thy  blood,  Live.  The  Spirit  of  God  speaks 
this  great  truth  to  the  hearts  of  men  with  emphasis  and  rep 
etition,  knowing  what  an  aptness  there  is  in  them  to  oppose 
it.  God  sees  a  man  wallowing  in  his  native  filth  and  im 
purity,  delivered  over  as  an  absolute  captive  to  sin,  polluted 
with  its  guilt,  and  enslaved  by  its  power ;  and  in  this  most 
loathsome  condition  fixes  upon  him  as  an  object  of  his  distin 
guishing  mercy.  And  to  show  yet  further  that  the  actings 
of  this  mercy  in  the  work  of  prevention  are  entirely  free,  do 
we  not  sometimes  see,  in  persons  of  equal  guilt  and  de 
merit,  and  of  equal  progress  and  advance  in  the  ways  of  sin, 
some  of  them  maturely  diverted  and  took  off,  and  others  per 
mitted  to  go  on  without  check  or  control,  till  they  finish  a 
sinful  course  in  final  perdition  ?  So  true  is  it,  that  if  things 
were  cast  upon  this  issue,  that  God  should  never  prevent  sin 
till  something  in  man  deserved  it,  the  best  of  men  would  fall 
into  sin,  continue  in  sin,  and  sin  on  forever. 

And  thus  much  for  the  second  thing  proposed ;  which  was 
to  show,  What  was  the  principle,  or  fountain,  from  whence 
this  prevention  of  sin  does  proceed.  Come  we  now  to  the 

Third  demonstration  or  proof  of  the  greatness  of  this  pre- 


1  SAM.  xxv.  32, 33.]        ,   an  invaluable  Mercy.  445 

venting  mercy,  taken  from  the  hazard  a  man  runs,  if  the 
commission  of  sin  be  not  prevented,  whether  ever  it  will  come 
to  be  pardoned. 

In  order  to  the  clearing  of  which,  I  shall  lay  down  these 
two  considerations  : 

1.  That  if  sin  be  not  thus  prevented,  it  will  certainly  be 
committed ;  and  the  reason  is,  because  on  the  sinner's  part 
there  will  be  always  a  strong  inclination  to  sin.  So  that,  if 
other  things  concur,  and  Providence  cuts  not  off  the  opportu 
nity,  the  act  of  sin  must  needs  follow.  For  an  active  prin 
ciple,  seconded  with  the  opportunities  of  action,  will  infallibly 
exert,  itself. 

2dly,  The  other  consideration  is,  That  in  every  sin  deliber 
ately  committed,  there  are  (generally  speaking)  many  more 
degrees  of  probability  that  that  sin  will  never  come  to  be 
pardoned,  than  that  it  will. 

And  this  shall  be  made  to  appear  upon  these  three  following 
accounts : 

1.  Because  every  commission  of  sin  introduces  into  the  soul 
a  certain  degree  of  hardness,  and  an  aptness  to  continue  in 
that  sin.  It  is  a  known  maxim,  that  it  is  much  more  difficult 
to  throw  out,  than  not  to  let  in.  Every  degree  of  entrance 
is  a  degree  of  possession.  Sin  taken  into  the  soul  is  like  a 
liquor  poured  into  a  vessel ;  so  much  of  it  as  it  fills,  it  also 
seasons.  The  touch  and  tincture  go  together.  So  that  al 
though  the  body  of  the  liquor  should  be  poured  out  again, 
yet  still  it  leaves  that  tang  behind  it  which  makes  the  vessel 
fitter  for  that  than  for  any  other.  In  like  manner,  every  act 
of  sin  strangely  transforms  and  works  over  the  soul  to  its  own 
likeness  :  sin  in  this  being  to  the  soul  like  fire  to  combus 
tible  matter  ;  it  assimilates  before  it  destroys  it. 

2dly,  A  second  reason  is,  because  every  commission  of  sin 
imprints  upon  the  soul  a  further  disposition  and  proneness  to 
sin.  As  the  second,  third,  and  fourth  degrees  of  heat  are 
more  easily  introduced  than  the  first.  Every  one  is  both  a 
preparative  and  a  step  to  the  next.  Drinking  both  quenches 
the  present  thirst  and  provokes  it  for  the  future.  When  the 
soul  is  beaten  from  its  first  station,  and  the  mounds  and  out 
works  of  virtue  are  once  broken  down,  it  becomes  quite  an 
other  thing  from  what  it  was  before.  In  one  single  eating  of 


446  Prevention  of  Sin  [SERM.  xxn. 

the  forbidden  fruit,  when  the  act  is  over,  yet  the  relish  re 
mains  ;  and  the  remembrance  of  the  first  repast  is  an  easy 
allurement  to  the  second.  One  visit  is  enough  to  begin  an 
acquaintance ;  and  this  point  is  gained  by  it,  that  when  the 
visitant  comes  again  he  is  no  more  a  stranger. 

3dly,  The  third  and  grand  reason  is,  because  the  only  thing 
that  can  entitle  the  sinner  to  pardon,  which  is  repentance,  is 
not  in  the  sinner's  power  :  and  he  who  goes  about  the  work 
will  find  it  so.  It  is  the  gift  of  God :  and  though  God  has 
certainly  promised  forgiveness  of  sin  to  every  one  who  re 
pents,  yet  he  has  not  promised  to  any  one  to  give  him  grace 
to  repent.  This  is  the  sinner's  hard  lot,  that  the  same  thing 
which  makes  him  need  repentance,  makes  him  also  in  danger 
of  not  obtaining  it.  For  it  provokes  and  offends  that  holy 
Spirit  which  alone  can  bestow  this  grace  :  as  the  same  treason 
which  puts  a  traitor  in  need  of  his  prince's  mercy,  is  a  great 
and  a  just  provocation  to  his  prince  to  deny  it  him. 

Now,  let  these  three  things  be  put  together :  First,  That 
every  commission  of  sin,  in  some  degree,  hardens  the  soul  in 
that  sin.  Secondly,  That  every  commission  of  sin  disposes 
the  soul  to  proceed  further  in  sin.  And,  thirdly,  That  to  re 
pent  and  turn  from  sin,  (without  which  all  pardon  is  impos 
sible,)  is  not  in  the  sinner's  power ;  and  then,  I  suppose,  there 
can  not  but  appear  a  greater  likelihood,  that  a  sin  once  com 
mitted  will  in  the  issue  not  be  pardoned,  than  that  it  will.  To 
all  which,  add  the  confirmation  of  general  experience,  and  the 
real  event  of  things,  that  where  one  man  ever  comes  to  repent, 
an  hundred,  I  might  say  a  thousand  at  least,  end  their  days  in 
final  impenitence. 

All  which  considered,  surely  there  can  not  need  a  more 
pregnant  argument  of  the  greatness  of  this  preventing  mercy, 
if  it  did  no  more  for  a  man  than  this ;  that  his  grand,  immor 
tal  concern,  more  valuable  to  him  than  ten  thousand  worlds, 
is  not  thrown  upon  a  critical  point ;  that  he  is  not  brought  to 
his  last  stake ;  that  he  is  rescued  from  the  first  descents  into 
hell  and  the  high  probabilities  of  damnation. 

For  whatsoever  the  issue  proves,  it  is  certainly  a  miserable 
thing  to  be  forced  to  cast  lots  for  one's  life;  yet  in  every 
sin,  a  man  does  the  same  for  eternity.  And  therefore  let  the 
boldest  sinner  take  this  one  consideration  along  with  him, 


l  SAM.  xxv.  32, 33.]  an  invaluable  Mercy.  447 

when  he  is  going  to  sin,  that,  whether  the  sin  he  is  ahout 
to  act  ever  comes  to  he  pardoned  or  no,  yet,  as  soon  as  it 
is  acted,  it  quite  turns  the  balance,  puts  his  salvation  upon 
the  venture,  leaves  him  hut  one  cast  for  all ;  and,  which  is 
yet  much  more  dreadful,  makes  it  ten  to  one  odds  against 
him. 

But  let  us  now  alter  the  state  of  the  matter,  so  as  to  leave 
no  doubt  in  the  case ;  but  suppose  that  the  sin,  which,  upon 
non-prevention,  comes  to  be  committed,  comes  also  to  be  re 
pented  of,  and  consequently  to  be  pardoned.  Yet,  in  the 

Fourth  and  last  place,  The  greatness  of  this  preventing 
mercy  is  eminently  proved  from  those  advantages  accruing 
to  the  soul  from  the  prevention  of  sin,  above  what  can  be  had 
from  the  bare  pardon  of  it :  and  that,  in  these  two  great  re 
spects  : 

1.  Of  the  clearness  of  a  man's  condition. 

2.  Of  the  satisfaction  of  his  mind.     And, 

First,  For  the  clearness  of  his  condition.  If  innocence  be 
preferable  to  repentance,  and  to  be  clean  be  more  desirable 
than  to  be  cleansed,  then  surely  prevention  of  sin  ought  to 
have  the  precedence  of  its  pardon.  For  so  much  of  preven 
tion,  so  much  of  innocence.  There  are  indeed  various  de 
grees  of  it ;  and  God,  in  his  infinite  wisdom,  does  not  deal 
forth  the  same  measure  of  his  preventing  grace  to  all.  Some 
times  he  may  suffer  the  soul  but  just  to  begin  the  sinful  pro 
duction,  in  reflecting  upon  a  sin,  suggested  by  the  imagi 
nation,  with  some  complacency  and  delight ;  which,  in  the 
apostle's  phrase,  is  to  conceive  sin;  and  then,  in  these  early, 
imperfect  beginnings,  God  perhaps  may  presently  dash  and 
extinguish  it.  Or  possibly  he  may  permit  the  sinful  con 
ception  to  receive  life  and  form,  by  passing  into  a  purpose  of 
committing  it ;  and  then  he  may  make  it  prove  abortive,  by 
stifling  it  before  ever  it  comes  to  the  birth.  Or  perhaps  God 
may  think  fit  to  let  it  come  even  to  the  birth,  by  some  strong 
endeavors  to  commit  it,  and  yet  then  deny  it  strength  to 
bring  forth ;  so  that  it  never  comes  into  actual  commission. 
Or,  lastly,  God  may  suffer  it  to  be  born,  and  see  the  world, 
by  permitting  the  endeavor  of  sin  to  pass  into  the  commission 
of  it.  And  this  is  the  last  fatal  step  but  one ;  which  is,  by 
frequent  repetition  of  the  sinful  act,  to  continue  and  persist 


448  Prevention  of  Sin  [SERM.  XXIL 

in  it,  till  at  length  it  settles  into  a  fixed,  confirmed  habit  of 
sin;  which,  being  properly  that  which  the  apostle  calls  the 
finishing  of  sin,  ends  certainly  in  death,  —  death,  not  only  as  to 
merit,  but  also  as  to  actual  infliction. 

Now  peradventure  in  this  whole  progress,  preventing  grace 
may  sometimes  come  in  to  the  poor  sinner's  help,  but  at  the 
last  hour  of  the  day ;  and  having  suffered  him  to  run  all  the 
former  risk  and  maze  of  sin,  and  to  descend  so  many  steps 
downwards  to  the  black  regions  of  death :  as  first,  from  the 
bare  thought  and  imagination  of  sin,  to  look  upon  it  with 
some  beginnings  of  appetite  and  delight;  from  thence,  to 
purpose  and  intend  it ;  and  from  intending,  to  endeavor  it ; 
and  from  endeavoring,  actually  to  commit  it;  and,  having 
committed  it,  perhaps  for  some  time  to  continue  in  it :  and 
then,  1  say,  after  all  this,  God  may  turn  the  fatal  stream,  and 
by  a  mighty  grace  interrupt  its  course,  and  keep  it  from  pass 
ing  into  a  settled  habit,  and  so  hinder  the  absolute  completion 
of  sin  in  final  obduracy. 

Certain  it  is,  that  wheresoever  it  pleases  God  to  stop  the 
sinner  on  this  side  hell,  how  far  soever  he  has  been  advanced 
in  his  way  towards  it,  is  a  vast,  ineffable  mercy ;  a  mercy  as 
great  as  life  from  the  dead,  and  salvation  to  a  man  tottering 
with  horror  upon  the  very  edge  and  brink  of  destruction. 
But  if,  more  than  all  this,  God  shall  be  pleased  by  an  early 
grace  to  prevent  sin  so  soon  as  to  keep  the  soul  in  the  vir 
ginity  of  its  first  innocence,  not  tainted  with  the  desires,  and 
much  less  defloured  with  the  formed  purpose  of  any  thing 
vile  and  sinful,  what  an  infinite  goodness  is  this !  It  is  not 
a  converting,  but  a  crowning  grace ;  such  an  one  as  irradiates, 
and  puts  a  circle  of  glory  about  the  head  of  him  upon  whom 
it  descends ;  it  is  the  Holy  Ghost  coming  down  upon  him  in 
the  form  of  a  dove,  and  setting  him  triumphant  above  the  ne 
cessity  of  tears  and  sorrow,  mourning  and  repentance,  the  sad 
after-games  of  a  lost  innocence.  And  this  brings  in  the  con 
sideration  of  that  other  great  advantage  accruing  to  the  soul 
from  the  prevention  of  sin,  above  what  can  be  had  from  the 
bare  pardon  of  it ;  namely, 

2.  The  satisfaction  of  a  man's  mind.  There  is  that  true 
joy,  that  solid  and  substantial  comfort,  conveyed  to  the  heart 
by  preventing  grace,  which  pardoning  grace,  at  the  best,  very 


1  SAM.  xxv.  32, 33.]  an  invaluable  Mercy.  449 

seldom,  and,  for  the  most  part,  never  gives.  For  since  all 
joy  passes  into  the  heart  through  the  understanding,  the 
object  of  it  must  be  known  by  one  before  it  can  aifect  the 
other.  Now,  when  grace  keeps  a  man  so  within  his  bounds 
that  sin  is  prevented,  he  certainly  knows  it  to  be  so ;  and  so 
rejoices  upon  the  firm,  infallible  ground  of  sense  and  assur 
ance.  But,  on  the  other  side,  though  grace  may  have  re 
versed  the  condemning  sentence,  and  sealed  the  sinner's  par 
don  before  God,  yet  it  may  have  left  no  transcript  of  that 
pardon  in  the  sinner's  breast.  The  handwriting  against  him 
may  be  cancelled  in  the  court  of  heaven,  and  yet  the  indict 
ment  run  on  in  the  court  of  conscience.  So  that  a  man  may 
be  safe  as  to  his  condition,  but  in  the  mean  time  dark  and 
doubtful  as  to  his  apprehensions;  secure  in  his  pardon,  but 
miserable  in  the  ignorance  of  it ;  and  so,  passing  all  his  days 
in  the  disconsolate,  uneasy  vicissitudes  of  hopes  and  fears,  at 
length  go  out  of  the  world,  not  knowing  whither  he  goes. 
And  what  is  this,  but  a  black  cloud  drawn  over  all  a  man's 
comforts  ?  a  cloud  which,  though  it  can  not  hinder  the  sup 
porting  influence  of  heaven,  yet  will  be  sure  to  intercept  the 
refreshing  light  of  it.  The  pardoned  person  must  not  think 
to  stand  upon  the  same  vantage-ground  with  the  innocent. 
It  is  enough  that  they  are  both  equally  safe ;  but  it  can  not 
be  thought  that,  without  a  rare  privilege,  both  can  be  equally 
cheerful.  And  thus  much  for  the  advantageous  effects  of 
preventing,  above  those  of  pardoning  grace;  which  was  the 
fourth  and  last  argument  brought  for  the  proof  of  the  propo 
sition.  Pass  we  now  to  the  next  general  thing  proposed  for 
the  prosecution  of  it ;  namely, 

2.  Its  application.  Which,  from  the  foregoing  discourse, 
may  afford  us  several  useful  deductions ;  but  chiefly  by  way  of 
information,  in  these  three  following  particulars.  As, 

First,  This  may  inform  and  convince  us  how  vastly  greater 
a  pleasure  is  consequent  upon  the  forbearance  of  sin  than 
can  possibly  accompany  the  commission  of  it ;  and  how  much 
higher  a  satisfaction  is  to  be  found  from  a  conquered,  than 
from  a  conquering  passion.  For  the  proof  of  which,  we  need 
look  no  further  than  the  great  example  here  before  us.  Re 
venge  is  certainly  the  most  luscious  morsel  that  the  devil 
can  put  into  the  sinner's  mouth.  But  do  we  think  that 

VOL.  i.  29 


450  Prevention  of  Sin  [SERM.  xxn. 

David  could  have  found  half  that  pleasure  in  the  execution 
of  his  revenge  that  he  expresses  here  upon  the  disappoint 
ment  of  it  ?  Possibly  it  might  have  pleased  him  in  the  pres 
ent  heat  and  hurry  of  his  rage,  but  must  have  displeased  him 
infinitely  more  in  the  cool,  sedate  reflections  of  his  mind. 
For  sin  can  please  no  longer  than  for  that  pitiful  space  of 
time  while  it  is  committing ;  and  surely  the  present  pleasure 
of  a  sinful  act  is  a  poor  countervail  for  the  bitterness  of  the 
review,  which  begins  where  the  action  ends,  and  lasts  for 
ever.  There  is  no  ill  thing  which  a  man  does  in  his  passion, 
but  his  memory  will  be  revenged  on  him  for  it  afterwards. 

All  pleasure  springing  from  a  gratified  passion  (as  most  of 
the  pleasure  of  sin  does)  must  needs  determine  with  that  pas 
sion.  It  is  short,  violent,  and  fallacious ;  and  as  soon  as  the 
imagination  is  disabused,  will  certainly  be  at  an  end.  And 
therefore  Des  Cartes  prescribes  excellently  well  for  the  regu 
lation  of  the  passions ;  viz.  That  a  man  should  fix  and  fore 
arm  his  mind  with  this  settled  persuasion,  that,  during  that 
commotion  of  his  blood  and  spirits,  in  which  passion  properly 
consists,  whatsoever  is  offered  to  his  imagination  in  favor  of  it, 
tends  only  to  deceive  his  reason.  It  is  indeed  a  real  trepan 
upon  it ;  feeding  it  with  colors  and  appearances,  instead  of 
arguments ;  and  driving  the  very  same  bargain  which  Jacob 
did  with  Esau,  a  mess  of  pottage  for  a  birthright,  a  present 
repast  for  a  perpetuity. 

Secondly,  We  have  here  a  sure,  unfailing  criterion,  by 
which  every  man  may  discover  and  find  out  the  gracious  or 
ungracious  disposition  of  his  own  heart.  The  temper  of 
every  man  is  to  be  judged  of  from  the  thing  he  most  esteems ; 
and  the  object  of  his  esteem  may  be  measured  by  the  prime 
object  of  his  thanks.  What  is  it  that  opens  thy  mouth  in 
praises,  that  fills  thy  heart,  and  lifts  up  thy  hands  in  grateful 
acknowledgments  to  thy  great  Creator  and  Preserver  ?  Is  it 
that  thy  bags  and  thy  barns  are  full,  that  thou  hast  escaped 
this  sickness  or  that  danger  P  Alas,  God  may  have  done  all 
this  for  thee  in  anger !  All  this  fair  sunshine  may  have  been 
only  to  harden  thee  in  thy  sins.  He  may  have  given  thee 
riches  and  honor,  health  and  power  with  a  curse ;  and  if  so, 
it  will  be  found  but  a  poor  comfort  to  have  had  never  so  great 
a  share  of  God's  bounty  without  his  blessing. 


i  SAM.  xxv.  32, 33.]  an  invaluable  Mercy.  451 

But  has  he  at  any  time  kept  thee  from  thy  sin  ?  stopped 
thee  in  the  prosecution  of  thy  lust?  defeated  the  malicious 
arts  and  stratagems  of  thy  mortal  enemy  the  tempter  ?  And 
does  not  the  sense  of  this  move  and  affect  thy  heart  more  than 
all  the  former  instances  of  temporal  prosperity,  which  are  but, 
as  it  were,  the  promiscuous  scatterings  of  his  common  provi 
dence,  while  these  are  the  distinguishing  kindnesses  of  his 
special  grace  ? 

A  truly  pious  mind  has  certainly  another  kind  of  relish  and 
taste  of  these  things ;  and  if  it  receives  a  temporal  blessing 
with  gratitude,  it  receives  a  spiritual  one  with  ecstasy  and 
transport.  David,  an  heroic  instance  of  such  a  temper,  over 
looks  the  rich  and  seasonable  present  of  Abigail,  though 
pressed  with  hunger  and  travel ;  but  her  advice,  which  dis 
armed  his  rage,  and  calmed  his  revenge,  draws  forth  those 
high  and  affectionate  gratulations  from  him  :  Blessed  be  thy 
advice,  and  blessed  be  thou,  who  hast  kept  me  this  day  from  shed 
ding  blood,  and  avenging  myself  with  mine  own  hand.  These 
were  his  joyful  and  glorious  trophies ;  not  that  he  triumphed 
over  his  enemy,  but  that  he  insulted  over  his  revenge ;  that 
he  escaped  from  himself,  and  was  delivered  from  his  own  fury. 
And  whosoever  has  any  thing  of  David's  piety,  will  be  per 
petually  plying  the  throne  of  grace  with  such  like  acknowl 
edgments  ;  as,  "  Blessed  be  that  Providence  which  delivered 
me  from  such  a  lewd  company,  and  such  a  vicious  acquaint 
ance,  which  was  the  bane  of  such  and  such  a  person.  And, 
Blessed  be  that  God  who  cast  rubs,  and  stops,  and  hinder- 
ances  in  my  way,  when  I  was  attempting  the  commission  of 
such  or  such  a  sin ;  who  took  me  out  of  such  a  course  of  life, 
such  a  place,  or  such  an  employment,  which  was  a  continual 
snare  and  temptation  to  me.  And,  Blessed  be  such  a  preacher, 
and  such  a  friend,  whom  God  made  use  of  to  speak  a  word  in 
season  to  my  wicked  heart,  and  so  turned  me  out  of  the  paths 
of  death  and  destruction,  and  saved  me  in  spite  of  the  world, 
the  devil,  and  myself." 

These  are  such  things  as  a  man  shall  remember  with  joy 
upon  his  deathbed ;  such  as  shall  cheer  and  warm  his  heart 
even  in  that  last  and  bitter  agony,  when  many,  from  the  very 
bottom  of  their  souls,  shall  wish  that  they  had  never  been 
rich,  or  great,  or  powerful ;  and  reflect  with  anguish  and  re- 


452  Prevention  of  Sin  [SERM.  xxn 

morse  upon  those  splendid  occasions  of  sin,  which  served 
them  for  little  but  to  Lighten  their  guilt,  and  at  best  to  in 
flame  their  accounts  at  that  great  tribunal  which  they  are 
going  to  appear  before. 

In  the  third  and  last  place.  We  learn  from  hence  the 
great  reasonableness  of,  not  only  a  contented,  but  also  a 
thankful  acquiescence  in  any  condition,  and  under  the  Gross 
est  and  severest  passages  of  Providence  which  can  possibly 
befall  us :  since  there  is  none  of  all  these  but  may  be  the  in 
strument  of  preventing  grace  in  the  hands  of  a  merciful  God, 
to  keep  us  from  those  courses  which  would  otherwise  assur 
edly  end  in  our  confusion.  This  is  most  certain,  that  there  is 
no  enjoyment  which  the  nature  of  man  is  either  desirous  or 
capable  of,  but  may  be  to  him  a  direct  inducement  to  sin,  and 
consequently  is  big  with  mischief,  and  carries  death  in  the 
bowels  of  it.  But  to  make  the  assertion  more  particular, 
and  thereby  more  convincing,  let  us  take  an  account  of  it  with 
reference  to  the  three  greatest  and  deservedly  most  valued 
enjoyments  of  this  life. 

1.  Health ;  2dJy,  Reputation  ;  and  3dly,  Wealth. 

First,  And  first  for  health.  Has  God  made  a  breach  upon 
that?  Perhaps  he  is  building  up  thy  soul  upon  the  ruins  of 
thy  body.  Has  he  bereaved  thee  of  the  use  and  vigor  of  thy 
limbs  ?  Possibly  he  saw  that  otherwise  they  would  have  been 
the  instruments  of  thy  lusts,  and  the  active  ministers  of  thy 
debaucheries.  Perhaps  thy  languishing  upon  thy  bed  has 
kept  thee  from  rotting  in  a  jail,  or  in  a  worse  place.  God 
saw  it  necessary  by  such  mortifications  to  quench  the  boilings 
of  a  furious,  overflowing  appetite,  and  the  boundless  rage  of 
an  insatiable  intemperance;  to  make  the  weakness  of  the 
flesh  the  physic  and  restaurative  of  the  spirit ;  and,  in  a  word, 
rather  to  save  thee  diseased,  sickly,  and  deformed,  than  to  let 
strength,  health,  and  beauty  drive  thee  headlong  (as  they 
have  done  many  thousands)  into  eternal  destruction. 

Secondly,  Has  God  in  his  providence  thought  fit  to  drop  a 
blot  upon  thy  name,  and  to  blast  thy  reputation  ?  He  saw 
perhaps  that  the  breath  of  popular  air  was  grown  infectious, 
and  would  have  derived  a  contagion  upon  thy  better  part. 
Pride  and  vainglory  had  mounted  thee  too  high,  and  there*- 
fore  it  was  necessary  for  mercy  to  take  thee  down,  to  prevent 


1  SAM.  xxv.  32, 33.]  an  invaluable  Mercy.  453 

a  greater  fall.  A  good  name  is,  indeed,  better  than  life  j  but 
a  sound  mind  is  better  than  both.  Praise  and  applause  had 
swelled  thee  to  a  proportion  ready  to  burst ;  it  had  vitiated  all 
thy  spiritual  appetites,  and  brought  thee  to  feed  upon  the  air, 
and  to  surfeit  upon  the  wind,  and,  in  a  word,  to  starve  thy 
soul,  only  to  pamper  thy  imagination. 

And  now  if  God  makes  use  of  some  poignant  disgrace  to 
prick  this  enormous  bladder,  and  to  let  out  the  poisonous  va 
por,  is  not  the  mercy  greater  than  the  severity  of  the  cure  ? 
Cover  them  with  shame,  says  the  psalmist,  that  they  may  seek  thy 
name.  Fame  and  glory  transports  a  man  out  of  himself;  and, 
like  a  violent  wind,  though  it  may  bear  him  up  for  a  while, 
yet  it  will  be  sure  to  let  him  fall  at  last.  It  makes  the  mind 
loose  and  garish,  scatters  the  spirits,  and  leaves  a  kind  of  dis 
solution  upon  all  the  faculties.  Whereas  shame,  on  the  con 
trary,  as  all  grief  does,  naturally  contracts  and  unites,  and 
thereby  fortifies  the  spirits,  fixes  the  ramblings  of  fancy,  and 
so  reduces  and  gathers  the  man  into  himself.  This  is  the 
sovereign  effect  of  a  bitter  potion,  administered  by  a  wise  and 
merciful  hand  :  and  what  hurt  can  there  be  in  all  the  slanders, 
obloquies,  and  disgraces  of  this  world,  if  they  are  but  the  arts 
and  methods  of  Providence  to  shame  us  into  the  glories  of 
the  next.  But  then, 

Thirdly  and  lastly,  Has  God  thought  fit  to  cast  thy  lot 
amongst  the  poor  of  this  world,  and  that  either  by  denying 
thee  any  share  of  the  plenties  of  this  life,  which  is  something 
grievous  ;  or  by  taking  them  away,  which  is  much  more  so  ? 
Yet  still  all  this  may  be  but  the  effect  of  preventing  mercy. 
For  so  much  mischief  as  riches  have  done  and  may  do  to  the 
souls  of  men,  so  much  mercy  may  there  be  in  taking  them 
away.  For  does  not  the  wisest  of  men,  next  our  Saviour,  tell 
us  of  riches  kept  to  the  hurt  of  the  owners  of  them  ?  Eccles.  v. 
13.  And  does  not  our  Saviour  himself  speak  of  the  intoler 
able  difficulty  which  they  cause  in  men's  passage  to  heaven  ? 
Do  they  not  make  the  narrow  way  much  narrower,  and  con 
tract  the  gate  which  leads  to  life  to  the  straitness  of  a  needle's 
eye  ? 

And  now,  if  God  will  fit  thee  for  this  passage  by  taking  off 
thy  load,  and  emptying  thy  bags,  and  so  suit  the  narrowness 
of  thy  fortune  to  the  narrowness  of  the  way  thou  art  to  pass, 


454  Prevention  of  Sin  [SERM.  xxn. 

is  there  any  thing  hut  mercy  in  all  this  ?  Nay,  are  not  the 
riches  of  his  mercy  conspicuous  in  the  poverty  of  thy  con 
dition  ? 

Thou  who  repinest  at  the  plenty  and  splendor  of  thy 
neighbor,  at  the  greatness  of  his  incomes,  and  the  magnifi 
cence  of  his  retinue,  consider  what  are  frequently  the  dis 
mal,  wretched  consequences  of  all  this,  and  thou  wilt  have 
little  cause  to  envy  this  gaudy  great  one,  or  to  wish  thyself  in 
his  room. 

For  do  we  not  often  hear  of  this  or  that  young  heir  newly 
come  to  his  father's  vast  estate  ?  An  happy  man,  no  doubt ! 
But  does  not  the  town  presently  ring  of  his  debaucheries,  his 
blasphemies,  and  his  murders  ?  Are  not  his  riches  and  his 
lewdnesses  talked  of  together?  and  the  odiousness  of  one 
hightened  and  set  off  by  the  greatness  of  the  other  ?  Are 
not  his  oaths,  his  riots,  and  other  villainies  reckoned  by  as 
many  thousands  as  his  estate  ? 

Now  consider,  had  this  grand  debauchee,  this  glistering 
monster,  been  born  to  thy  poverty  and  mean  circumstances, 
he  could  not  have  contracted  such  a  clamorous  guilt,  he  could 
not  have  been  so  bad :  nor,  perhaps,  had  thy  birth  instated 
thee  in  the  same  wealth  and  greatness,  wouldest  thou  have 
been  at  all  better. 

This  God  foresaw  and  knew,  in  the  ordering  both  of 
his  and  thy  condition  :  and  which  of  the  two  now,  can  we 
think,  is  the  greater  debtor  to  his  preventing  mercy  ?  Lordly 
sins  require  lordly  estates  to  support  them:  and  where 
Providence  denies  the  latter,  it  cuts  off  all  temptation  to 
the  former. 

And  thus  have  I  shown  by  particular  instances,  what  cause 
men  have  to  acquiesce  in  and  submit  to  the  harshest  dispen 
sations  that  Providence  can  measure  out  to  them  in  this  life ; 
and  with  what  satisfaction,  or  rather  gratitude,  that  ought  to 
be  endured  by  which  the  greatest  of  mischiefs  is  prevented. 
The  great  physician  of  souls  sometimes  can  not  cure  without 
cutting  us.  Sin  has  festered  inwardly,  and  he  must  lance  the 
imposthume,  to  let  out  death  with  the  suppuration.  He  who 
ties  a  madman's  hands,  or  takes  away  his  sword,  loves  his 
person,  while  he  disarms  his  frenzy.  And  whether  by 
health  or  sickness,  honor  or  disgrace,  wealth  or  poverty,  life 


i  SAM.  xxv.  32, 33.]  an  invaluable  Mercy.  455 

or  death,  mercy  is  still  contriving,  acting,  and  carrying  on 
the  spiritual  good  of  all  those  who  love  God,  and  are  loved  by 
him. 

To  whom,  therefore,  be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all 
praise,  might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for  ever 
more.  Amen. 


SERMON  XXIII. 


AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  NATURE  AND  MEASURES  OF 
CONSCIENCE : 

IN  TWO  SERMONS  ON  1  JOHN  III.  21,   PREACHED    BEFORE    THE    uf  IVfiRSITY,   AT 
CHRIST  CHURCH,  OXON. 

THE  FIRST  PREACHED  ON  THE  1ST  OP  NOVEMBER,  1691. 


1  JOHN  iii.  21.  — Beloved,  if  our  heart  condemn  us  not,  we  have  confidence  toward  God. 

AS  nothing  can  be  of  more  moment,  so  few  things,  doubt 
less,  are  of  more  difficulty,  than  for  men  to  be  rationally 
satisfied  about  the  estate  of  their  souls,  with  reference  to  God 
and  the  great  concerns  of  eternity.  In  their  judgment  about 
which,  if  they  err  finally,  it  is  like  a  man's  missing  his  cast 
when  he  throws  dice  for  his  life;  his  being,  his  happiness, 
and  all  that  he  does  or  can  enjoy  in  the  world,  is  involved 
in  the  error  of  one  throw.  And  therefore  it  may  very  well 
deserve  our  best  skill  and  care,  to  inquire  into  those  rules  by 
which  we  may  guide  our  judgment  in  so  weighty  an  affair, 
both  with  safety  and  success.  And  this,  I  think,  can  not  be 
better  done  than  by  separating  the  false  and  fallacious  from 
the  true  and  certain.  For  if  the  rule  we  judge  by  be  uncer 
tain,  it  is  odds  but  we  shall  judge  wrong ;  and  if  we  should 
judge  right,  yet  it  is  not  properly  skill,  but  chance ;  not  a 
true  judgment,  but  a  lucky  hit :  which,  certainly,  the  eternal 
interests  of  an  immortal  soul  are  of  much  too  high  a  value  to 
be  left  at  the  mercy  of. 

First  of  all  then  :  he  who  would  pass  such  a  judgment  upon 
his  condition  as  shall  be  ratified  in  heaven  and  confirmed  at 
that  great  tribunal  from  which  there  lies  no  appeal,  will  find 


l  JOHN  iii.  21.]     Of  the  Nature  and  Measures  of  Conscience.     457 

himself  wofully  deceived,  if  he  judges  of  his  spiritual  estate 
by  any  of  these  four  following  measures  :  as, 

1.  The  general  esteem  of  the  world  concerning"  him.  He 
who  owes  his  piety  to  fame  and  hearsay,  and  the  evidences  of 
his  salvation  to  popular  voice  and  opinion,  huilds  his  house 
not  only  upon  the  sand,  hut,  which  is  worse,  upon  the  wind ; 
and  writes  the  deeds,  by  which  he  holds  his  estate,  upon  the 
face  of  a  river.  He  makes  a  bodily  eye  the  judge  of  things 
impossible  to  be  seen ;  and  humor  and  ignorance  (which  the 
generality  of  men  both  think  and  speak  by)  the  great  proofs 
of  his  justification.  But  surely  no  man  has  the  estate  of  his 
soul  drawn  upon  his  face,  nor  the  decree  of  his  election  wrote 
upon  his  forehead.  He  who  would  know  a  man  thoroughly, 
must  follow  him  into  the  closet  of  his  heart,  the  door  of 
which  is  kept  shut  to  all  the  world  besides,  and  the  inspection 
of  which  is  only  the  prerogative  of  omniscience. 

The  favorable  opinion  and  good  word  of  men,  (to  some 
persons  especially,)  comes  oftentimes  at  a  very  easy  rate  ;  and 
by  a  few  demure  looks  and  affected  whines,  set  off  with  some 
odd,  devotional  postures  and  grimaces,  and  such  other  little 
arts  of  dissimulation,  cunning  men  will  do  wonders,  and  com 
mence  presently  heroes  for  sanctity,  self-denial,  and  sincerity, 
while  within  perhaps  they  are  as  proud  as  Lucifer,  as  covet 
ous  as  Demas,  as  false  as  Judas ;  and,  in  the  whole  course 
of  their  conversation,  act  and  are  acted,  not  by  devotion,  but 
design. 

So  that,  for  aught  I  see,  though  the  Mosaical  part  of 
Judaism  be  abolished  amongst  Christians,  the  Pharisaical  part 
of  it  never  will.  A  grave,  stanch,  skillfully  managed  face, 
set  upon  a  grasping,  aspiring  mind,  having  got  many  a  sly 
formalist  the  reputation  of  a  primitive  and  severe  piety,  for 
sooth,  and  made  many  such  mountebanks  pass  admired,  even 
for  saints  upon  earth,  (as  the  word  is,)  who  are  like  to  be  so 
nowhere  else. 

But  a  man  who  had  never  seen  the  stately  outside  of  a 
tomb,  or  painted  sepulchre,  before,  may  very  well  be  excused 
if  he  takes  it  rather  for  the  repository  of  some  rich  treasure, 
than  of  a  noisome  corpse ;  but  should  he  but  once  open  and 
rake  into  it,  though  he  could  not  see,  he  would  quickly  smell 
out  his  mistake.  The  greatest  part  of  the  world  is  nothing 


458  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  xxm. 

but  appearance,  nothing  but  show  and  surface ;  and  many 
make  it  their  business,  their  study,  and  concern,  that  it  should 
be  so ;  who,  having  for  many  years  together  deceived  all 
about  them,  are  at  last  willing  to  deceive  themselves  too ;  and 
by  a  long,  immemorial  practice,  and,  as  it  were,  prescription 
of  an  aged,  thoroughpaced  hypocrisy,  come  at  length  to  be 
lieve  that  for  a  reality  which,  at  the  first  practice  of  it,  they 
themselves  knew  to  be  a  cheat.  But  if  men  love  to  be  de 
ceived  and  fooled  about  so  great  an  interest  as  that  of  their 
spiritual  estate,  it  must  be  confessed  that  they  can  not  take  a 
surer  and  more  effectual  course  to  be  so,  than  by  taking  their 
neighbor's  word  for  that  which  can  be  known  to  them  only 
from  their  own  hearts.  For  certainly  it  is  not  more  absurd 
to  undertake  to  tell  the  name  of  an  unknown  person  by  his 
looks,  than  to  vouch  a  man's  saintship  from  the  vogue  of  the 
world,  founded  upon  his  external  behavior. 

2.  The  judgment  of  any  casuist,  or  learned  divine,  concern 
ing  the  estate  of  a  man's  soul,  is  not  sufficient  to  give  him 
confidence  towards  God.  And  the  reason  is,  because  no 
learning  whatsoever  can  give  a  man  the  knowledge  of  an 
other's  heart.  Besides,  that  it  is  more  than  possible  that 
the  most  profound  and  experienced  casuist  in  the  world  may 
mistake  in  his  judgment  of  a  man's  spiritual  condition ;  and 
if  he  does  judge  right,  yet  the  man  can  not  be  sure  that  he 
will  declare  that  judgment  sincerely  and  impartially,  (the 
greatest  clerks  being  not  always  the  honestest,  any  more 
than  the  wisest  men,)  but  may  purposely  soothe  a  man  up  for 
hope  or  fear,  or  the  service  of  some  sinister  interest ;  and 
so  show  him  the  face  of  a  foul  soul  in  a  flattering  glass  : 
considering  how  much  the  raising  in  some  men  a  false  hope 
of  another  world  may,  with  others,  serve  a  real  interest  in 
this. 

There  is  a  generation  of  men  who  have  framed  their  casu 
istical  divinity  to  a  perfect  compliance  with  all  the  corrupt  af 
fections  of  a  man's  nature  ;  and  by  that  new-invented  engine 
of  the  doctrine  of  probability,  will  undertake  to  warrant  and 
quiet  the  sinner's  conscience  in  the  commission  of  any  sin 
whatsoever,  provided  there  be  but  the  opinion  of  one  learned 
man  to  vouch  it.  For  this,  they  say,  is  a  sufficient  ground 
for  the  conscience  of  any  unlearned  person  to  rely  and  to  act 


l  JOHN  ill.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  459 

upon.  So  that  if  but  one  doctor  asserts  that  I  may  lawfully 
kill  a  man  to  prevent  a  box  on  the  ear,  or  a  calumny,  by  which 
he  would  otherwise  asperse  my  good  name,  I  may  with  a  good 
conscience  do  it ;  nay,  I  may  safely  rest  upon  this  one  casuist's 
judgment,  though  thousands,  as  learned  as  himself,  yea,  and 
the  express  law  of  God  besides,  affirm  the  quite  contrary. 
But  these  spiritual  engineers  know  well  enough  how  to  deal 
with  any  commandment,  either  by  taking  or  expounding  it 
away,  at  their  pleasure. 

Such  an  ascendant  have  these  Romish  casuists  over  scrip 
ture,  reason,  and  morality;  much  like  what  is  said  of  the 
stupid,  modern  Jews,  that  they  have  subdued  their  sense  and 
reason  to  such  a  sottish  servitude  to  their  rabbies,  as  to  hold, 
that  in  case  two  rabbies  should  happen  to  contradict  one  an 
other,  they  were  yet  bound  to  believe  the  contradictory  asser 
tions  of  both  to  be  equally  certain,  and  equally  the  word  of 
God  :  such  an  iron-digesting  faith  have  they,  and  such  pity  it 
is  that  there  should  be  no  such  thing  in  Judaism  as  transub- 
stantiation  to  employ  it  upon. 

But  as  for  these  casuists  whom  I  have  been  speaking  of; 
if  the  judgment  of  one  doctor  may  authorize  the  practice  of 
any  action,  I  believe  it  will  be  hard  to  find  any  sort  or  degree 
of  villainy  which  the  corruption  of  man's  nature  is  capable 
of  committing,  which  shall  not  meet  with  a  defense.  And 
of  this  I  could  give  such  an  instance  from  something  wrote 
by  a  certain  prelate  of  theirs,  cardinal  and  archbishop  of 
Beneventum,  as  were  enough,  not  only  to  astonish  all  pious 
ears,  but  almost  to  unconsecrate  the  very  church  I  speak  in. 

But  the  truth  is,  the  way  by  which  these  Romish  casuists 
speak  peace  to  the  consciences  of  men,  is  either  by  teaching 
them  that  many  actions  are  not  sins,  which  yet  really  are  so, 
or  by  suggesting  something  to  them  which  shall  satisfy  their 
minds,  notwithstanding  a  known,  actual,  avowed  continuance 
in  their  sins :  such  as  are  their  pardons  and  indulgences,  and 
giving  men  a  share  in  the  saints'  merits,  out  of  the  common 
bank  and  treasury  of  the  church,  which  the  pope  has  the  sole 
custody  and  disposal  of,  and  is  never  kept  shut  to  such  as 
come  with  an  open  hand.  So  that  according  to  these  new 
evangelists,  well  may  we  pronounce,  Blessed  are  the  rich,  for 
theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  But  God  deliver  the  world 


460  Of  the  Nature  mid  [SERM.  xxm. 

from  such  guides,  or  rather  such  hucksters  of  souls,  the  very 
shame  of  religion,  and  the  shameless  suhverters  of  morality. 
And  it  is  really  matter  hoth  of  wonder  and  indignation,  that 
such  impostors  should  at  all  concern  themselves  about  rules  or 
directions  of  conscience,  who  seem  to  have  no  consciences  to 
apply  them  to. 

3.  The  absolution  pronounced  by  a  priest,  whether  Papist 
or  Protestant,  is  not  a  certain,  infallible  ground,  to  give  the 
person  so  absolved  confidence  towards  God;  and  the  reason 
is,  because,  if  absolution,  as  such,  could  of  itself  secure  a  man, 
as  to  the  estate  of  his  soul,  then  it  would  follow  that  every 
person  so  absolved  should,  by  virtue  thereof,  be  ipso  facto  put 
into  such  a  condition  of  safety  which  is  not  imaginable. 

For  the  absolution  pronounced  must  be  either  conditional, 
as  running  upon  the  conditions  of  faith  and  repentance  ;  and 
then,  if  those  conditions  are  not  found  in  the  person  so  ab 
solved,  it  is  but  a  seal  to  a  blank,  and  so  a  mere  nullity  to 
him.  Or,  the  absolution  must  be  pronounced  in  terms  abso 
lute  and  unconditional :  and  if  so,  then  the  said  absolution 
becomes  valid  and  effectual,  either  by  virtue  of  the  state  of 
the  person  to  whom  it  was  pronounced,  as  being  a  true  peni 
tent,  or  by  virtue  of  the  opus  operatum,  or  bare  action  itself 
of  the  priest  absolving  him.  If  it  receives  its  validity  from 
the  former,  then  it  is  clear,  that  although  it  runs  in  forms 
absolute,  yet  it  is  indeed  conditional,  as  depending  upon  the 
qualification  of  the  person  to  whom  it  is  pronounced ;  who 
therefore  owes  the  remission  of  his  sins,  not  properly  to  the 
priest's  absolution,  but  to  his  own  repentance,  which  made 
that  absolution  effectual,  and  would  undoubtedly  have  saved 
him,  though  the  priest  had  never  absolved  him. 

But  if  it  be  asserted  that  the  very  action  of  the  priest  ab 
solving  him  has  of  itself  this  virtue,  then  we  must  grant 
also,  that  it  is  in  the  priest's  power  to  save  a  man  who  never 
repented,  nor  did  one  good  work  in  all  his  life;  forasmuch 
as  it  is  in  his  power  to  perform  this  action  upon  him  in  full 
form,  and  with  full  intention  to  absolve  him.  But  the  hor 
rible  absurdity,  blasphemy,  and  impiety  of  this  assertion 
sufficiently  proclaims  its  falsity  without  any  further  confuta 
tion. 

In  a  word,  if  a  man  be  a  penitent,  his  repentance  stamps 


l  JOHN  iii.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  461 

his  absolution  effectual.  If  not,  let  the  priest  repeat  the 
same  absolution  to  him  ten  thousand  times,  yet  for  all  his 
being1  absolved  in  this  world,  God  will  condemn  him  in  the 
other.  And  consequently,  he  who  places  his  salvation  upon 
this  ground,  will  find  himself  like  an  imprisoned  and  con 
demned  malefactor,  who  in  the  night  dreams  that  he  is  re 
leased,  but  in  the  morning  finds  himself  led  to  the  gallows. 

4thly  and  lastly,  No  advantages  from  external  church-mem 
bership,  or  profession  of  the  true  religion,  can  themselves 
give  a  man  confidence  towards  God.  And  yet  perhaps  there 
is  hardly  any  one  thing  in  the  world,  which  men,  in  all  ages, 
have  generally  more  cheated  themselves  with.  The  Jews 
were  an  eminent  instance  of  this :  who,  because  they  were 
the  sons  of  Abraham,  as  it  is  readily  acknowledged  by  our 
Saviour,  John  viii.  37,  and  because  they  were  entrusted  until  the 
oracles  of  God,  Rom.  iii.  2,  together  with  the  covenants,  and  the 
promises,  Rom.  ix.  4,  that  is,  in  other  words,  because  they 
were  the  true  church,  and  professors  of  the  true  religion, 
(while  all  the  world  about  them  lay  wallowing  in  ignorance, 
heathenism,  and  idolatry,)  they  concluded  from  hence,  that 
God  was  so  fond  of  them,  that,  notwithstanding  all  their  vil 
lainies  and  immoralities,  they  were  still  the  darlings  of  heaven, 
and  the  only  heirs  apparent  of  salvation.  They  thought,  it 
seems,  God  and  themselves  linked  together  in  so  fast,  but 
withal  so  strange  a  covenant,  that,  although  they  never  per 
formed  their  part  of  it,  God  was  yet  bound  to  make  good  every 
tittle  of  his. 

And  this  made  John  the  Baptist  set  himself  with  so  much 
acrimony  and  indignation  to  baffle  this  senseless,  arrogant 
conceit  of  theirs,  which  made  them  huff  at  the  doctrine  of 
repentance,  as  a  thing  below  them,  and  not  at  all  belonging 
to  them,  in  Matt.  iii.  9.  Think  not,  says  he,  to  say  within  your 
selves,  We  have  Abraham  to  our  father.  This,  he  knew,  lay 
deep  in  their  hearts,  and  was  still  in  their  mouths,  and  kept 
them  insolent  and  impenitent  under  sins  of  the  highest  and 
most  clamorous  guilt;  though  our  Saviour  himself  also,  not 
long  after  this,  assured  them,  that  they  were  of  a  very  differ 
ent  stock  and  parentage  from  that  which  they  boasted  of;  and 
that  whosoever  was  their  father  upon  the  natural  account,  the 
devil  was  certainly  so  upon  a  moral. 


462  Of  the  Nature  and  [SKKM.  xxm- 

In  like  manner,  how  vainly  do  the  Romanists  pride  and 
value  themselves  upon  the  name  of  Catholics,  of  the  catholic 
religion,  and  of  the  catholic  church  !  though  a  title  no  more 
applicable  to  the  church  of  Rome,  than  a  man's  finger,  when 
it  is  swelled  and  putrefied,  can  he  called  his  whole  body :  a 
church  which  allows  salvation  to  none  without  it,  nor  awards 
damnation  to  almost  any  within  it.  And  therefore,  as  the 
former  empty  plea  served  the  sottish  Jews,  so,  no  wonder  if 
this  equally  serves  these,  to  put  them  into  a  fool's  paradise,  by 
feeding  their  hopes  without  changing  their  lives  ;  and,  as  an 
excellent  expedient,  first  to  assure  them  of  heaven,  and  then 
to  bring  them  easily  to  it ;  and  so,  in  a  word,  to  save  both 
their  souls  and  their  sins  too. 

And  to  show  how  the  same  cheat  runs  through  all  profes 
sions,  though  not  in  the  same  dress ;  none  are  more  power 
fully  and  grossly  under  it  than  another  sort  of  men,  who,  on 
the  contrary,  place  their  whole  acceptance  with  God,  and  in 
deed  their  whole  religion,  upon  a  mighty  zeal,  or  rather  out 
cry,  against  popery  and  superstition ;  verbally,  indeed,  uttered 
against  the  church  of  Rome,  but  really  against  the  church  of 
England.  To  which  sort  of  persons  I  shall  say  no  more  but 
this,  and  that  in  the  spirit  of  truth  and  meekness ;  namely, 
that  zeal  and  noise  against  popery,  and  real  services  for  it, 
are  no  such  inconsistent  things  as  some  may  imagine ;  indeed 
no  more  than  invectives  against  Papists,  and  solemn  ad 
dresses  of  thanks  to  them  for  that  very  thing  by  which  they 
would  have  brought  in  popery  upon  us.  And  if  those  of  the 
separation  do  not  yet  know  so  much,  thanks  to  them  for  it, 
we  of  the  church  of  England  do  ;  and  so  may  they  themselves 
too,  in  due  time.  I  speak  not  this  by  way  of  sarcasm,  to  re 
proach  them,  (I  leave  that  to  their  own  consciences,  which 
will  do  it  more  effectually,)  but  by  way  of  charity,  to  warn 
them  :  for  let  them  be  assured  that  this  whole  scene  and  prac 
tice  of  theirs  is  as  really  superstition,  and  as  false  a  bottom  to 
rest  their  souls  upon,  as  either  the  Jews  alleging  Abraham  for 
their  father,  while  the  devil  claimed  them  for  his  children ;  or 
the  Papists  relying  upon  their  indulgences,  their  saints'  merits 
and  supererogations,  and  such  other  fopperies,  as  can  never 
settle,  nor  indeed  so  much  as  reach,  the  conscience;  and 
much  less  recommend  it  to  that  Judge  who  is  not  to  be 


i  JOHN  in.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  463 

flammed  off  with  words,  and  phrases,  and  names,  though 
taken  out  of  the  scripture  itself. 

Nay,  and  I  shall  proceed  yet  further.  It  is  not  a  man's 
being  of  the  church  of  England  itself,  (though  undoubtedly 
the  purest  and  best  reformed  church  in  the  world ;  indeed  so 
well  reformed,  that  it  will  be  found  a  much  easier  work  to  alter 
than  to  better  its  constitution  ;)  I  say,  it  is  not  a  man's  being 
even  of  this  excellent  church,  which  can  of  itself  clear  ac 
counts  between  God  and  his  conscience.  Since  bare  commun 
ion  with  a  good  church  can  never  alone  make  a  good  man : 
for  if  it  could,  I  am  sure  we  should  have  no  bad  ones  in  ours ; 
and  much  less  such  as  would  betray  it. 

So  that  we  see  here  that  it  is  but  too  manifest  that  men 
of  all  churches  and  persuasions  are  strangely  apt  to  flatter 
and  deceive  themselves  with  what  they  believe  and  what 
they  profess ;  and  if  we  throughly  consider  the  matter,  we 
shall  find  the  fallacy  to  lie  in  this :  that  those  religious  in 
stitutions,  which  God  designed  only  for  means,  helps,  and 
advantages,  to  promote  and  further  men  in  the  practice 
of  holiness,  they  look  upon  rather  as  a  privilege  to  serve 
them  instead  of  it,  and  really  to  commute  for  it.  This  is 
the  very  case,  and  a  fatal  self-imposture  it  is  certainly,  and 
such  an  one  as  defeats  the  design  and  destroys  the  force  of 
all  religion. 

And  thus  I  have  shown  four  several  uncertain  and  deceit 
ful  rules,  which  men  are  prone  to  judge  of  their  spiritual 
estate  by. 

But  now,  have  we  any  better  or  more  certain,  to  substitute 
and  recommend  in  the  room  of  them  ?  Why,  yes  ;  if  we  be 
lieve  the  apostle,  a  man's  own  heart  or  conscience  is  that 
which,  above  all  other  things,  is  able  to  give  him  confidence 
towards  God.  And  the  reason  is,  because  the  heart  knows 
that  by  itself,  which  nothing  in  the  world  besides  can  give  it 
any  knowledge  of,  and  without  the  knowledge  of  which  it 
can  have  no  foundation  to  build  any  true  confidence  upon. 
Conscience,  under  God,  is  the  only  competent  judge  of  what 
the  soul  has  done,  and  what  it  has  not  done ;  what  guilt  it 
has  contracted,  and  what  it  has  not ;  as  it  is  in  1  Cor.  ii.  11, 
What  man  knoweth  the  things  of  a  man,  save  the  spirit  of  man 
which  is  in  him  ?  Conscience  is  its  own  counsellor,  the  sole 


464  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  xxm. 

master  of  its  own   secrets :  and  it  is   the  privilege   of  our 
nature,  that  every  man  should  keep  the  key  of  his  own  hreast. 
Now  for  the  further  prosecution  of  the  words,  I  shall  do 
these  four  things : 

1.  I  shall  show  how  the  heart  or  conscience  ought  to  he 
informed,  in  order  to  its  founding  in  us  a  rational  confidence 
towards  God. 

2.  I  shall  show  how  and  by  what  means  we  may  get  it  thus 
informed,  and  afterwards  preserve  and  keep  it  so. 

3.  I  shall  show  whence  it  is  that  the  testimony  of   con 
science  thus  informed,  comes  to  be  so  authentic,  and  so  much 
to  be  relied  upon ;  and, 

4thly  and  lastly,  I  shall  assign  some  particular  cases  or  in 
stances,  in  which  the  confidence  suggested  by  it  does  most 
eminently  show  and  exert  itself. 

1.  And  first  for  the  first  of  these,  how  the  heart  or  con 
science,  &c.  It  is  certain,  that  no  man  can  have  any  such 
confidence  towards  God,  only  because  his  heart  tells  him  a 
lie ;  and  that  it  may  do  so  is  altogether  as  certain.  For 
there  is  the  erroneous,  as  well  as  the  rightly  informed  con 
science;  and  if  the  conscience  happens  to  be  deluded,  and 
thereupon  to  give  false  directions  to  the  will,  so  that  by  virtue 
of  those  directions  it  is  betrayed  into  a  course  of  sin  :  sin  does 
not  therefore  cease  to  be  sin,  because  a  man  committed  it 
conscientiously.  If  conscience  comes  to  be  perverted  so  far 
as  to  bring  a  man  under  a  persuasion  that  it  is  either  lawful 
or  his  duty  to  resist  the  magistrate,  to  seize  upon  his  neigh 
bor's  just  rights  or  estate,  to  worship  stocks  and  stones,  or  to 
lie,  equivocate,  and  the  like,  this  will  not  absolve  him  before 
God ;  since  error,  which  is  in  itself  evil,  can  never  make  an 
other  thing  good.  He  who  does  an  unwarrantable  action 
through  a  false  information,  which  information  he  ought  not 
to  have  believed,  can  not  in  reason  make  the  guilt  of  one  sin 
the  excuse  of  another. 

Conscience  therefore  must  be  rightly  informed,  before  the 
testimony  of  it  can  be  authentic  in  what  it  pronounces  con 
cerning  the  estate  of  the  soul.  It  must  proceed  by  the  two 
grand  rules  of  right  reason  and  scripture ;  these  are  the  com 
pass  which  it  must  steer  by.  For  conscience  comes  formally 
to  oblige,  only  as  it  is  the  messenger  of  the  mind  of  God  to 


i  JOHN  iii.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  465 

the  soul  of  man  ;  which  he  has  revealed  to  him,  partly  by  the 
impression  of  certain  notions  and  maxims  upon  the  practical 
understanding,  and  partly  by  the  declared  oracles  of  his  word. 
So  far  therefore  as  conscience  reports  any  thing  agreeable  to, 
or  deducible  from  these,  it  is  to  be  hearkened  to  as  the  great 
conveyer  of  truth  to  the  soul ;  but  when  it  reports  any  thing 
dissonant  to  these,  it  obliges  no  more  than  the  falsehood  re 
ported  by  it. 

But  since  there  is  none  who  follows  an  erroneous  con 
science,  but  does  so  because  he  thinks  it  true ;  and  moreover 
thinks  it  true,  because  he  is  persuaded  that  it  proceeds  ac 
cording  to  the  two  forementioned  rules  of  scripture  and 
right  reason ;  how  shall  a  man  be  able  to  satisfy  himself, 
when  his  conscience  is  rightly  informed,  and  when  possessed 
with  an  error  ?  For  to  affirm  that  the  sentence  passed  by 
a  rig'htly  informed  conscience  gives  a  man  a  rational  confi 
dence  towards  God;  but,  in  the  mean  time,  not  to  assign 
any  means  possible  by  which  he  may  know  when  his  con 
science  is  thus  rightly  informed,  and  when  not,  it  must 
equally  bereave  him  of  such  a  confidence,  as  placing  the 
condition  upon  which  it  depends  wholly  out  of  his  knowledge. 

Here  therefore  is  the  knot,  here  the  difficulty,  how  to  state 
some  rule  of  certainty,  by  which  infallibly  to  distinguish  when 
the  conscience  is  right,  and  to  be  relied  upon  ;  when  errone 
ous,  and  to  be  distrusted,  in  the  testimony  it  gives  about  the 
sincerity  and  safety  of  a  man's  spiritual  condition. 

For  the  resolution  of  which,  I  answer,  that  it  is  not  ne 
cessary  for  a  man  to  be  assured  of  the  Tightness  of  his  con 
science,  by  such  an  infallible  certainty  of  persuasion  as 
amounts  to  the  clearness  of  a  demonstration ;  but  it  is  suf 
ficient,  if  he  knows  it  upon  grounds  of  such  a  convincing 
probability  as  shall  exclude  all  rational  grounds  of  doubting 
of  it.  For  I  can  not  think  that  the  confidence  here  spoken 
of  rises  so  high  as  to  assurance.  And  the  reason  is,  be 
cause  it  is  manifestly  such  a  confidence  as  is  common  to  all 
sincere  Christians  ;  which  yet  assurance,  we  all  know,  is 
not. 

The  truth  is,  the  word  in  the  original,  which  is  Trop/^o-ia, 
signifies  properly  freedom  or  loldness  of  speech ;  though  the 
Latin  translation  renders  it  by  fiducia,  and  so  corresponds  with 

VOL.  i.  30 


466  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  xxnr. 

the  English,  which  renders  it  confidence.  But  whether  fiducia 
or  confidence  reaches  the  full  sense  of  Trap/fyo-ta,  may  very  well 
be  disputed.  However,  it  is  certain  that  neither  the  word  in 
the  original,  nor  yet  in  the  translation,  imports  assurance. 
For  freedom  or  boldness  of  speech,  I  am  sure,  does  not ;  and 
fiducia,  or  confidence,  signifies  only  a  man's  being  actually  per 
suaded  of  a  thing,  upon  better  arguments  for  it  than  any  that 
he  can  see  against  it ;  which  he  may  very  well  be,  and  yet  not 
be  assured  of  it. 

From  all  which  I  conclude,  that  the  confidence  here  men 
tioned  in  the  text  amounts  to  no  more  than  a  rational  well- 
grounded  hope.  Such  an  one  as  the  apostle  tells  us,  in  Rom. 
v.  5,  maketh  not  ashamed. 

And  upon  these  terms,  I  affirm,  that  such  a  conscience  as 
has  employed  the  utmost  of  its  ability  to  give  itself  the  best 
information  and  clearest  knowledge  of  its  duty  that  it  can,  is 
a  rational  ground  for  a  man  to  build  such  an  hope  upon ;  and, 
consequently,  for  him  to  confide  in. 

There  is  an  innate  light  in  every  man,  discovering  to  him 
the  first  lines  of  duty,  in  the  common  notions  of  good  and 
evil,  which,  by  cultivation  and  improvement,  may  be  advanced 
to  higher  and  brighter  discoveries.  And  from  hence  it  is  that 
the  schoolmen  and  moralists  admit  not  of  any  ignorantia  juris, 
speaking  of  natural  moral  right,  to  give  excuse  to  sin.  Since 
all  such  ignorance  is  voluntary,  and  therefore  culpable,  foras 
much  as  it  was  in  every  man's  power  to  have  prevented  it,  by 
a  due  improvement  of  the  light  of  nature,  and  the  seeds  of 
moral  honesty  sown  in  his  heart. 

If  it  be  here  demanded,  whether  a  man  may  not  remain 
ignorant  of  his  duty,  after  he  has  used  the  utmost  means  to 
inform  himself  of  it,  I  answer,  that  so  much  of  duty  as  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  save  him,  he  shall  upon  the  use  of 
such  a  course  come  to  know ;  and  that  which  he  continues 
ignorant  of,  having  done  the  utmost  lying  in  his  power  that 
he  might  not  be  ignorant  of  it,  shall  never  damn  him. 
Which  assertion  is  proved  thus :  The  gospel  damns  nobody 
for  being  ignorant  of  that  which  he  is  not  obliged  to  know ; 
but  that  which  upon  the  improvement  of  a  man's  utmost 
power  he  can  not  know,  he  is  not  obliged  to  know ;  for  that 
otherwise  he  would  be  obliged  to  an  impossibility ;  since  that 


i  JOHN  iii.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  467 

which  is  out  of  the  compass  of  any  man's  power,  is  to  that 
man  impossible. 

He  therefore  who  exerts  all  the  powers  and  faculties  of  his 
soul,  and  plies  all  means  and  opportunities  in  the  search  of 
truth,  which  God  has  vouchsafed  him,  may  rest  upon  the 
judgment  of  his  conscience  so  informed,  as  a  warrantable 
guide  of  those  actions  which  he  must  account  to  God  for. 
And  if  by  following  such  a  guide  he  falls  into  the  ditch,  the 
ditch  shall  never  drown  him,  or  if  it  should,  the  man  perishes 
not  by  his  sin,  but  by  his  misfortune.  In  a  word,  he  who  en 
deavors  to  know  the  utmost  of  his  duty  that  he  can,  and  prac 
tices  the  utmost  that  he  knows,  has  the  equity  and  goodness 
of  the  great  God  to  stand  as  a  mighty  wall  or  rampart  between 
him  and  damnation,  for  any  errors  or  infirmities  which  the 
frailty  of  his  condition  has  invincibly,  and  therefore  inculpably, 
exposed  him  to. 

And  if  a  conscience  thus  qualified  and  informed,  be  not  the 
measure  by  which  a  man  may  take  a  true  estimate  of  his 
absolution  before  the  tribunal  of  God,  all  the  understanding 
of  human  nature  can  not  find  out  any  ground  for  the  sinner 
to  pitch  the  sole  of  his  foot  upon,  or  rest  his  conscience  with 
any  assurance,  but  is  left  in  the  plunge  of  infinite  doubts  and 
uncertainties,  suspicions  and  misgivings,  both  as  to  the  meas 
ures  of  his  present  duty,  and  the  final  issues  of  his  future 
reward. 

Let  this  conclusion  therefore  stand  as  the  firm  result  of  the 
foregoing  discourse,  and  the  foundation  of  what  is  to  follow ; 
that  such  a  conscience  as  has  not  been  wanting  to  itself,  in 
endeavoring  to  get  the  utmost  and  clearest  information  about 
the  will  of  God,  that  its  power,  advantages,  and  opportunities 
could  afford  it,  is  that  internal  judge  whose  absolution  is  a 
rational  and  sure  ground  of  confidence  towards  God :  and  so 
I  pass  to  the  second  thing  proposed.  Which  is  to  show,  How, 
and  by  what  means,  we  may  get  our  heart  or  conscience  thus 
informed,  and  afterwards  preserve  and  keep  it  so. 

In  order  to  which,  amongst  many  things  that  might  be  al 
leged  as  highly  useful,  and  conducing  to  this  great  work,  I 
shall  insist  upon  these  four :  as, 

1.  Let  a  man  carefully  attend  to  the  voice  of  his  reason  > 
and  all  the  dictates  of  natural  morality,  so  as  by  no  means  to 


468  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  xxiii. 

do  any  thing  contrary  to  them.  For  though  reason  is  not  to 
he  relied  upon  as  a  guide  universally  sufficient  to  direct  us 
what  to  do,  yet  it  is  generally  to  he  relied  upon  and  obeyed, 
where  it  tells  us  what  we  are  not  to  do.  It  is  indeed  hut  a 
weak  and  diminutive  light,  compared  to  revelation ;  hut  it 
ought  to  he  no  disparagement  to  a  star,  that  it  is  not  a  sun. 
Nevertheless,  as  weak  and  as  small  as  it  is,  it  is  a  light  always 
at  hand,  and  though  enclosed,  as  it  were,  in  a  dark  lantern, 
may  yet  be  of  singular  use  to  prevent  many  a  foul  step,  and 
to  keep  us  from  many  a  dangerous  fall.  And  every  man 
brings  such  a  degree  of  this  light  into  the  world  with  him, 
that  though  it  can  not  bring  him  to  heaven,  yet,  if  he  be  true 
to  it,  it  will  carry  him  a  great  way ;  indeed  so  far,  that  if  he 
follows  it  faithfully,  I  doubt  not  but  he  shall  meet  with  an 
other  light,  which  shall  carry  him  quite  through. 

How  far  it  may  be  improved  is  evident  from  that  high  and 
refined  morality  which  shined  forth  both  in  the  lives  and 
writings  of  some  of  the  ancient  heathens,  who  yet  had  no 
other  light  but  this,  both  to  live  and  to  write  by.  For  how 
great  a  man  in  virtue  was  Cato,  of  whom  the  historian  gives 
this  glorious  character :  Esse  quam  videri  bonus  malebat ! 
And  of  what  an  impregnable  integrity  was  Fabricius,  of  whom 
it  was  said,  that  a  man  might  as  well  attempt  to  turn  the  sun 
out  of  his  course,  as  to  bring  Fabricius  to  do  a  base  or  a  dis 
honest  action !  And  then  for  their  writings  ;  what  admirable 
things  occur  in  the  remains  of  Pythagoras,  and  the  books  of 
Plato,  and  of  several  other  philosophers !  short,  I  confess,  of 
the  rules  of  Christianity,  but  generally  above  the  lives  of 
Christians. 

Which  being  so,  ought  not  the  light  of  reason  to  be  looked 
upon  by  us  as  a  rich  and  a  noble  talent,  and  such  an  one  as 
we  must  account  to  God  for  ?  for  it  is  certainly  from  him.  It 
is  a  ray  of  divinity  darted  into  the  soul.  It  is  the  candle  of 
the  Lord,  as  Solomon  calls  it,  and  God  never  lights  us  up  a 
candle  either  to  put  out  or  to  sleep  by.  If  it  be  made  con 
scious  to  a  work  of  darkness,  it  will  not  fail  to  discover  and 
reprove  it ;  and  therefore  the  checks  of  it  are  to  be  revered, 
as  the  echo  of  a  voice  from  heaven ;  for,  whatsoever  con 
science  binds  here  on  earth,  will  be  certainly  bound  there  too  ; 
and  it  were  a  great  vanity  to  hope  or  imagine,  that  either  law 


1  JOHN  iii.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  469 

or  gospel  will  absolve  what  natural  conscience  condemns.  No 
man  ever  yet  offended  his  own  conscience,  but  first  or  last  it 
was  revenged  upon  him  for  it.  So  that  it  will  concern  a  man 
to  treat  this  great  principle  awfully  and  warily,  by  still  observ 
ing  what  it  commands,  but  especially  what  it  forbids :  and 
if  he  would  have  it  always  a  faithful  and  sincere  monitor  to 
him,  let  him  be  sure  never  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  it ;  for  not 
to  hear  it  is  the  way  to  silence  it.  Let  him  strictly  observe 
the  first  stirrings  and  intimations ;  the  first  hints  and  whis 
pers  of  good  and  evil,  that  pass  in  his  heart ;  and  this  will 
keep  conscience  so  quick  and  vigilant,  and  ready  to  give"  a 
man  true  alarms  upon  the  least  approach  of  his  spiritual 
enemy,  that  he  shall  be  hardly  capable  of  a  great  surprise. 

On  the  contrary,  if  a  man  accustoms  himself  to  slight  or 
pass  over  these  first  motions  to  good,  or  shrinkings  of  his 
conscience  from  evil,  which  originally  are  as  natural  to  the 
heart  of  man  as  the  appetites  of  hunger  and  thirst  are  to  the 
stomach,  conscience  will  by  degrees  grow  dull  and  uncon 
cerned,  and,  from  not  spying  out  motes,  come  at  length  to 
overlook  beams ;  from  carelessness  it  shall  fall  into  a  slumber, 
and  from  a  slumber  it  shall  settle  into  a  deep  and  long  sleep ; 
till  at  last  perhaps  it  sleeps  itself  into  a  lethargy,  and  that 
such  an  one  that  nothing  but  hell  and  judgment  shall  be 
able  to  awaken  it.  For  long  disuse  of  any  thing  made  for 
action  will  in  time  take  away  the  very  use  of  it.  As  I  have 
read  of  one,  who,  having  for  a  disguise  kept  one  of  his  eyes 
a  long  time  covered,  when  he  took  off  the  covering  found  his 
eye  indeed  where  it  was,  but  his  sight  was  gone.  He  who 
would  keep  his  conscience  awake,  must  be  careful  to  keep  it 
stirring. 

2.  Let  a  man  be  very  tender  and  regardful  of  every  pious 
motion  and  suggestion  made  by  the  Spirit  of  God  to  his  heart. 
I  do  not  hereby  go  about  to  establish  enthusiasm,  or  such 
fantastic  pretenses  of  intercourse  with  God,  as  Papists  and 
fanatics  (who  in  most  things  copy  from  one  another,  as  well 
as  rail  at  one  another)  do  usually  boast  of.  But  certainly,  if 
the  evil  spirit  may  and  often  does  suggest  wicked  and  vile 
thoughts  to  the  minds  of  men,  as  all  do  and  must  grant,  and 
is  sufficiently  proved  from  the  devil's  putting  it  into  the  Iwartof 
Judas  to  betray  Christ,  John  xiii.  2,  and  his  filling  the  heart  of 


470  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.XXIII. 

Ananias  to  lie  to  the  Holy  GJwst,  Acts  v.  3,  it  can  not  after  this, 
with  any  color  of  reason,  be  doubted,  but  that  the  holy  Spirit 
of  God,  whose  power  and  influence  to  good  is  much  greater 
than  that  of  the  wicked  spirit  to  evil,  does  frequently  inject 
into  and  imprint  upon  the  soul  many  blessed  motions  and  im 
pulses  to  duty,  and  many  powerful  avocations  from  sin.  So 
that  a  man  shall  not  only,  as  the  prophet  says,  hear  a  voice  be 
hind  him,  but  also  a  voice  within  him,  telling  him  which  way 
he  ought  to  go. 

For  doubtless  there  is  something  more  in  those  expressions 
of  being  led  by  the  Spirit,  and  being  taught  by  the  Spirit,  and 
the  like,  than  mere  tropes  and  metaphors ;  and  nothing  less 
is  or  can  be  imported  by  them,  than  that  God  sometimes 
speaks  to,  and  converses  with,  the  hearts  of  men,  immedi 
ately  by  himself;  and  happy  those  who  by  thus  hearing  him 
speak  in  a  still  voice,  shall  prevent  his  speaking  to  them  in 
thunder. 

But  you  will  here  ask,  perhaps,  how  we  shall  distinguish  in 
such  motions,  which  of  them  proceed  immediately  from  the 
Spirit  of  God,  and  which  from  the  conscience  ?  In  answer  to 
which,  I  must  confess  that  I  know  no  certain  mark  of  discrim 
ination  to  distinguish  them  by,  save  only  in  general,  that 
such  as  proceed  immediately  from  God  use  to  strike  the 
mind  suddenly  and  very  powerfully.  But  then  I  add  also, 
that,  as  the  knowledge  of  this,  in  point  of  speculation,  is  so 
nice  and  difficult,  so,  thanks  be  to  God,  in  point  of  practice  it 
is  not  necessary.  But  let  a  man  universally  observe  and  obey 
every  good  motion  rising  in  his  heart,  knowing  that  every 
such  motion  proceeds  from  God,  either  mediately  or  immedi 
ately  ;  and  that  whether  God  speaks  immediately  by  himself 
to  the  conscience,  or  mediately  by  the  conscience  to  the  soul, 
the  authority  is  the  same  in  both,  and  the  contempt  of  either 
is  rebellion. 

Now  the  thing  which  I  drive  at,  under  this  head  of  dis 
course,  is  to  show,  that  as  God  is  sometimes  pleased  to  ad 
dress  himself  in  this  manner  to  the  hearts  of  men,  so,  if 
the  heart  will  receive  and  answer  such  motions,  by  a  ready 
and  obsequious  compliance  with  them,  there  is  no  doubt  but 
they  will  both  return  more  frequently,  and  still  more  and 
more  powerfully,  till  at  length  they  produce  such  a  degree  of 


1  JOHN  m.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  471 

light  in  the  conscience,  as  shall  give  a  man  hoth  a  clear  sight 
of  his  duty  and  a  certain  judgment  of  his  condition. 

On  the  contrary,  as  all  resistance  whatsoever  of  the  dictates 
of  conscience,  even  in  the  way  of  natural  efficiency,  brings  a 
kind  of  hardness  and  stupefaction  upon  it,  so  the  resistance 
of  these  peculiar  suggestions  of  the  Spirit  will  cause  in  it  also 
a  judicial  hardness,  which  is  yet  worse  than  the  other.  So 
that  God  shall  withdraw  from  such  a  heart,  and  the  Spirit 
being  grieved  shall  depart,  and  these  blessed  motions  shall 
cease,  and  affect  and  visit  it  no  more.  The  consequence  of 
which  is  very  terrible,  as  rendering  a  man  past  feeling :  and 
then  the  less  he  feels  in  this  world,  the  more  he  shall  be  sure 
to  feel  in  the  next.  But, 

3.  Because  the  light  of  natural  conscience  is  in  many  things 
defective  and  dim,  and  the  internal  voice  of  God's  Spirit  not 
always  distinguishable,  above  all,  let  a  man  attend  to  the  mind 
of  God,  uttered  in  his  revealed  word.  I  say,  his  revealed 
word.  By  which  I  do  not  mean  that  mysterious,  extraordi 
nary  (and  of  late  so  much  studied)  book  called  the  Revelation, 
and  which  perhaps  the  more  it  is  studied  the  less  it  is  under 
stood,  as  generally  either  finding  a  man  cracked,  or  making 
him  so  :  but  I  mean  those  other  writings  of  the  prophets  and 
apostles,  which  exhibit  to  us  a  plain,  sure,  perfect,  and  intelli 
gible  rule ;  a  rule  that  will  neither  fail  nor  distract  such  as 
make  use  of  it.  A  rule  to  judge  of  the  two  former  rules  by : 
for  nothing  that  contradicts  the  revealed  word  of  God  is 
either  the  voice  of  right  reason  or  of  the  Spirit  of  God  :  nor 
is  it  possible  that  it  should  be  so,  without  God's  contradicting 
himself. 

And  therefore  we  see  what  high  elogies  are  given  to  the 
written  word  by  the  inspired  penmen  of  both  Testaments. 
It  givetJi  understanding  to  the  simple,  says  David,  in  Psalm 
cxix.  130.  And  that,  you  will  say,  is  no  such  easy  matter 
to  do. 

It  is  able  to  make  the  man  of  God  perfect,  says  St.  Paul, 

2  Tim.  iii.  17.     It  is  quick  and  powerful,  and  sharper  than  any 
two-edged  sword,  piercing  even  to  the  dividing  asunder  of  soul  and 
spirit ;  and  is  a  discerner  of  the  thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart, 
Heb.  iv.  12.    Now  what  a  force  and  fullness,  what  a  vigor  and 
emphasis  is  there  in  all  these  expressions !    Enough,  one  would 


472  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  xxm. 

think,  to  recommend  and  endear  the  scriptures  even  to  the 
Papists  themselves.  For  if,  as  the  text  says,  they  give  under 
standing  to  the  simple,  I  know  none  more  concerned  to  read 
and  study  them  than  their  popes. 

Wherefore  since  the  light  and  energy  of  the  written  word 
is  so  mighty,  let  a  man  bring  and  hold  his  conscience  to  this 
steady  rule  ;  the  unalterable  rectitude  of  which  will  infallibly 
discover  the  rectitude  or  obliquity  of  whatsoever  it  is  applied 
to.  We  shall  find  it  a  rule,  both  to  instruct  us  what  to  do, 
and  to  assure  us  in  what  we  have  done.  For  though  natural 
conscience  ought  to  be  listened  to,  yet  it  is  revelation  alone 
that  is  to  be  relied  upon :  as  we  may  observe  in  the  works  of 
art,  a  judicious  artist  will  indeed  use  his  eye,  but  he  will  trust 
only  to  his  rule. 

There  is  not  any  one  action  whatsoever  which  a  man  ought 
to  do  or  to  forbear,  but  the  scripture  will  give  him  a  clear 
precept  or  prohibition  for  it. 

So  that  if  a  man  will  commit  such  rules  to  his  memory,  and 
stock  his  mind  with  portions  of  scripture  answerable  to  all  the 
heads  of  duty  and  practice,  his  conscience  can  never  be  at  a 
loss,  either  for  a  direction  of  his  actions,  or  an  answer  to  a 
temptation  :  it  was  the  very  course  which  our  Saviour  himself 
took,  when  the  devil  plied  him  with  temptation  upon  tempta 
tion.  Still  he  had  a  suitable  scripture  ready  to  repel  and  baffle 
them  all,  one  after  another  :  every  pertinent  text  urged  home 
being  a  direct  stab  to  a  temptation. 

Let  a  man  therefore  consider  and  recount  with  himself  the 
several  duties  and  virtues  of  a  Christian.  Such  as  temper 
ance,  meekness,  charity,  purity  of  heart,  pardoning  of  ene 
mies,  patience.  (I  had  almost  said  passive  obedience  too,  but 
that  such  old-fashioned  Christianity  seems  as  much  out  of 
date  with  some  as  Christ's  divinity  and  satisfaction.)  I  say, 
let  a  man  consider  these  and  the  like  virtues,  together  with 
the  contrary  sins  and  vices  that  do  oppose  them,  and  then, 
as  out  of  a  full  armory  or  magazine,  let  him  furnish  his  con 
science  with  texts  of  scripture,  particularly  enjoining  the  one, 
and  forbidding  or  threatening  the  other.  And  yet  I  do  not 
say  that  he  should  stuff  his  mind  like  the  margent  of  some 
authors,  with  chapter  and  verse  heaped  together,  at  all  advent 
ures  ;  but  only  that  he  should  fortify  it  with  some  few  texts 


iii.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  473 

which  are  home  and  apposite  to  his  case.  And  a  conscience 
thus  supplied  will  be  like  a  man  armed  at  all  points  ;  and  al 
ways  ready  either  to  receive  or  to  attack  his  enemy.  Otherwise 
it  is  not  a  man's  having  arms  in  his  house ;  no,  nor  yet  his 
having  courage  and  skill  to  use  them ;  but  it  is  his  having 
them  still  about  him,  which  must  both  secure  him  from  being 
set  upon,  and  defend  him  when  he  is. 

Accordingly,  men  must  know  that  without  taking  the  fore- 
mentioned  course,  all  that  they  do  in  this  matter  is  but  lost 
labor ;  and  that  they  read  the  scriptures  to  as  little  purpose 
as  some  use  to  quote  them ;  much  reading  being  like  much 
eating,  wholly  useless  without  digestion ;  and  it  is  impossible 
for  a  man  to  digest  his  meat,  without  also  retaining  it. 

Till  men  get  what  they  read  into  their  minds,  and  fix  it  in 
their  memories,  they  keep  their  religion  as  they  used  to  do 
their  Bibles,  only  in  their  closet,  or  carry  it  in  their  pocket ; 
and  that,  you  may  imagine,  must  improve  and  affect  the  soul 
just  as  much  as  a  man's  having  plenty  of  provision  only  in  his 
stores,  will  nourish  and  support  his  body.  When  men  forget 
the  word  heard  or  read  by  them,  the  devil  is  said  to  steal  it  out 
of  their  hearts,  Luke  viii.  12.  And  for  this  cause  we  do  with 
as  much  reason  as  propriety  of  speech  call  the  committing 
of  a  thing  to  memory,  the  getting  it  by  heart.  For  it  is  the 
memory  that  must  transmit  it  to  the  heart ;  and  it  is  in  vain 
to  expect  that  the  heart  should  keep  its  hold  of  any  truth 
when  the  memory  has  let  it  go. 

4.  The  fourth  and  last  way  that  I  shall  mention  for  the 
getting  of  the  conscience  rightly  informed,  and  afterwards 
keeping  it  so,  is  frequently  and  impartially  to  account  with  it. 
It  is  with  a  man  and  his  conscience  as  with  one  man  and  an 
other  ;  amongst  whom  we  use  to  say  that  even  reckoning 
makes  lasting  friends  ;  and  the  way  to  make  reckonings  even, 
I  am  sure,  is  to  make  them  often.  Delays  in  accounts  are 
always  suspicious ;  and  bad  enough  in  themselves,  but  com 
monly  much  worse  in  their  cause.  For  to  defer  an  account 
is  the  ready  way  to  perplex  it ;  and  when  it  comes  to  be  per 
plexed  and  intricate,  no  man,  either  as  to  his  temporal  or 
spiritual  estate,  can  know  of  himself  what  he  is,  or  what  he 
has,  or  upon  what  bottom  he  stands.  But  the  amazing  diffi 
culty  and  greatness  of  his  account  will  rather  terrify  than  in- 


474  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  xxm. 

form  him ;  and  keep  him  from  setting  heartily  about  such  a 
task  as  he  despairs  ever  to  go  through  with.  For  no  man 
willingly  begins  what  he  has  no  hope  to  finish. 

But  let  a  man  apply  to  this  work  by  frequent  returns  and 
short  intervals,  while  the  heap  is  small,  and  the  particulars 
few,  and  he  will  find  it  easy  and  conquerable ;  and  his  con 
science,  like  a  faithful  steward,  shall  give  him  in  a  plain, 
open,  and  entire  account  of  himself,  and  hide  nothing  from 
him.  Whereas  we  know,  if  a  steward  or  cashier  be  suffered 
to  run  on  from  year  to  year  without  bringing  him  to  a  reckon 
ing,  it  is  odds  but  such  a  sottish  forbearance  will  in  time  teach 
him  to  shuffle,  and  strongly  tempt  him  to  be  a  cheat,  if  not 
also  to  make  him  so ;  for  as  the  account  runs  on,  generally  the 
accountant  goes  backward. 

And  for  this  cause  some  judge  it  advisable  for  a  man  to 
account  with  his  heart  every  day ;  and  this,  no  doubt,  is  the 
best  and  surest  course  ;  for  still  the  oftener  the  better.  And 
some  prescribe  accounting  once  a  week ;  longer  than  which  it 
is  by  no  means  safe  to  delay  it :  for  a  man  shall  find  his  heart 
deceitful,  and  his  memory  weak,  and  nature  extremely  averse 
from  seeking  narrowly  after  that  which  it  is  unwilling  to  find  ; 
and  being  found,  will  assuredly  disturb  it. 

So  that  upon  the  whole  matter  it  is  infinitely  absurd  to 
think,  that  conscience  can  be  kept  in  order  without  frequent 
examination.  If  a  man  would  have  his  conscience  deal  clearly 
with  him,  he  must  deal  severely  with  that.  Often  scouring  and 
cleansing  it  will  make  it  bright ;  and  when  it  is  so,  he  may  see 
himself  in  it :  and  if  he  sees  any  thing  amiss,  let  this  satisfy 
him,  that  no  man  is  or  can  be  the  worse  for  knowing  the  very 
,.  worst  of  himself. 

On  the  contrary,  if  conscience,  by  a  long  neglect  of  and 
disacquaintance  with  itself,  comes  to  contract  an  inveterate 
rust  or  soil,  a  man  may  as  well  expect  to  see  his  face  in  a 
mud-wall,  as  that  such  a  conscience  should  give  him  a  true 
report  of  his  condition ;  no,  it  leaves  him  wholly  in  the  dark 
as  to  the  greatest  concern  he  has  in  both  worlds.  He  can 
neither  tell  whether  God  be  his  friend  or  his  enemy,  or 
rather  he  has  shrewd  cause  to  suspect  him  his  enemy,  and 
can  not  possibly  know  him  to  be  his  friend.  And  this  being 
his  case,  he  must  live  in  ignorance  and  die  in  ignorance ; 


l  JOHN  ill.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  475 

and  it  will  be  hard  for  a  man  to  die  in  it,  without  dying  for 
it  too. 

And  now,  what  a  wretched  condition  must  that  man  needs 
be  in,  whose  heart  is  in  such  a  confusion,  such  darkness,  and 
such  a  settled  blindness,  that  it  shall  not  be  able  to  tell  him 
so  much  as  one  true  word  of  himself!  Flatter  him  it  may, 
I  confess,  (as  those  are  generally  good  at  flattering  who  are 
good  for  nothing  else,)  but  in  the  mean  time  the  poor  man 
is  left  under  the  fatal  necessity  of  a  remediless  delusion  : 
for  in  judging  of  a  man's  self,  if  conscience  either  can  not 
or  will  not  inform  him,  there  is  a  certain  thing  called  self- 
love  that  will  be  sure  to  deceive  him.  And  thus  I  have  shown, 
in  four  several  particulars,  what  is  to  be  done,  both  for  the 
getting  and  keeping  of  the  conscience  so  informed  as  that 
it  may  be  able  to  give  us  a  rational  confidence  towards  God. 
As, 

1.  That  the  voice  of  reason,  in  all  the  dictates  of  natural 
morality,  ought   carefully  to   be  attended  to  by  a  strict  ob 
servance  of  what  it  commands,  but  especially  of  what  it  for 
bids. 

2.  That  every  pious  motion  from  the  Spirit  of  God  ought 
tenderly  to  be  cherished,  and  by  no  means  checked  or  quenched 
either  by  resistance  or  neglect. 

3.  That  conscience  is  to  be  kept  close  to  the  rule  of  the 
written  word. 

4thly  and  lastly,  That  it  is  frequently  to  be  examined,  and 
severely  accounted  with. 

And  I  doubt  not  but  a  conscience  thus  disciplined  shall 
give  a  man  such  a  faithful  account  of  himself  as  shall  never 
shame  nor  lurch  the  confidence  which  he  shall  take  up  from 
it. 

Nevertheless,  to  prevent  all  mistakes  in  so  critical  a  case 
and  so  high  a  concern,  I  shall  close  up  the  foregoing  particu 
lars  with  this  twofold  caution. 

First,  Let  no  man  think  that  every  doubting  or  misgiving 
about  the  safety  of  his  spiritual  estate  overthrows  the  con 
fidence  hitherto  spoken  of.  For,  as  I  showed  before,  the  con 
fidence  mentioned  in  the  text  is  not  properly  assurance,  but 
only  a  rational,  well-grounded  hope ;  and  therefore  may  very 
well  consist  with  some  returns  of  doubting.  For  we  know, 


476  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  XXIIL 

in  that  pious  and  excellent  confession  and  prayer  made  by 
the  poor  man  to  our  Saviour,  in  Mark  ix.  24,  how  in  the  very 
same  breath  in  which  he  says,  Lord,  I  believe,  he  says  also, 
Lord,  Iwlp  my  unbelief.  So  that  we  see  here,  that  the  sin 
cerity  of  our  faith  or  confidence  will  not  secure  us  against 
all  vicissitudes  of  wavering  or  distrust ;  indeed  no  more  than 
a  strong  athletic  constitution  of  body  will  secure  a  man  al 
ways  against  heats,  and  colds,  and  rheums,  and  such  like  in 
dispositions. 

And  one  great  reason  of  this  is,  because  such  a  faith  or 
confidence  as  we  have  been  treating  of  resides  in  the  soul 
or  conscience  as  a  habit.  And  habits,  we  know,  are  by  no 
means  either  inconsistent  with,  or  destroyed  by,  every  con 
trary  act.  But  especially  in  the  case  now  before  us,  where 
the  truth  and  strength  of  our  confidence  towards  God  does 
not  consist  so  much  in  the  present  act,  by  which  it  exerts 
itself,  no,  nor  yet  in  the  habit  producing  this  act,  as  it  does 
in  the  ground  or  reason  which  this  confidence  is  built  upon  ; 
which  being  the  standing  sincerity  of  a  man's  heart,  though 
the  present  act  be  interrupted,  (as,  no  doubt,  through  infirm 
ity  or  temptation  it  may  be  very  often,)  yet,  so  long  as  that 
sincerity,  upon  which  this  confidence  was  first  founded,  does 
continue,  as  soon  as  the  temptation  is  removed  and  gone,  the 
forementioned  faith,  or  affiance,  will,  by  renewed,  vigorous, 
and  fresh  acts,  recover  and  exert  itself,  and  with  great  com 
fort  and  satisfaction  of  mind  give  a  man  confidence  towards 
God.  Which,  though  it  be  indeed  a  lower  and  a  lesser  thing 
than  assurance,  yet,  as  to  all  the  purposes  of  a  pious  life,  may, 
for  aught  I  see,  prove  much  more  useful ;  as  both  affording  a 
man  due  comfort,  and  yet  leaving  room  for  due  caution  too ; 
which  are  two  of  the  principal  uses  that  religion  serves  for  in 
this  world. 

2.  The  other  caution,  with  reference  to  the  foregoing  dis-* 
course,  is  this  :  Let  no  man,  from  what  has  been  said,  reckon 
a  bare  silence  of  conscience  in  not  accusing  or  disturbing 
him,  a  sufficient  argument  for  confidence  towards  God.  For 
such  a  silence  is  so  far  from  being  always  so,  that  it  is  usually 
worse  than  the  fiercest  and  loudest  accusations ;  since  it  may, 
and  for  the  most  part  does,  proceed  from  a  kind  of  numbness 
or  stupidity  of  conscience,  and  an  absolute  dominion  obtained 


l  JOHN  ill.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  477 

by  sin  over  the  soul ;  so  that  it  shall  not  so  much  as  dare  to 
complain  or  make  a  stir.  For,  as  our  Saviour  says,  Luke  xi. 
21,  While  the  strong  man  armed  keepeth  his  palace,  his  goods 
are  in  peace.  So,  while  sin  rules  and  governs  with  a  strong 
hand,  and  has  wholly  subdued  the  conscience  to  a  slavish  sub 
jection  to  its  tyrannical  yoke,  the  soul  shall  be  at  peace, 
such  a  false  peace  as  it  is ;  but  for  that  very  cause  worse  a 
great  deal,  and  more  destructive,  than  when,  by  continual 
alarms  and  assaults,  it  gives  a  man  neither  peace  nor  truce, 
quiet  nor  intermission.  And  therefore  it  is  very  remarkable 
that  the  text  expresses  the  sound  estate  of  the  heart  or  the 
conscience  here  spoken  of,  not  barely  by  its  not  accusing,  but 
by  its  not  condemning  us,  which  word  imports  properly  an 
acquitment  or  discharge  of  a  man  upon  some  precedent  accu 
sation,  and  a  full  trial  and  cognizance  of  his  cause  had  there 
upon.  For  as  condemnation,  being  a  law  term,  and  so  relat 
ing  to  the  judicial  proceedings  of  law  courts,  must  still 
presuppose  a  hearing  of  the  cause,  before  any  sentence  can 
pass,  so  likewise  in  the  court  of  conscience  there  must  be 
a  strict  and  impartial  inquiry  into  all  a  man's  actions,  and  a 
thorough  hearing  of  all  that  can  be  pleaded  for  and  against 
him,  before  conscience  can  rationally  either  condemn  or  dis 
charge  him  :  and  if  indeed  upon  such  a  fair  and  full  trial  he 
can  come  off,  he  is  then  rectus  in  curia,  clear  and  innocent, 
and  consequently  may  reap  all  that  satisfaction  from  himself 
which  it  is  natural  for  innocence  to  afford  the  person  who  has 
it.  I  do  not  here  speak  of  a  legal  innocence,  (none  but  sots 
and  Quakers  dream  of  such  things,)  for,  as  St.  Paul  says, 
Galat.  ii.  16,  by  the  works  of  the  law  sliall  no  flesh  living  be 
justified ;  but  I  speak  of  an  evangelical  innocence ;  such  an 
one  as  the  economy  of  the  gospel  accepts,  whatsoever  the  law 
enjoins  ;  and  though  mingled  with  several  infirmities  and  de 
fects,  yet  amounts  to  such  a  pitch  of  righteousness  as  we  call 
sincerity.  And  whosoever  has  this  shall  never  be  damned  for 
want  of  the  other. 

And  now,  how  vastly  does  it  concern  all  those  who  shall 
think  it  worth  their  while  to  be  in  earnest  with  their  immor 
tal  souls,  not  to  abuse  and  delude  themselves  with  a  false  con 
fidence  ?  a  thing  so  easily  taken  up,  and  so  hardly  laid  down. 
Let  no  man  conclude,  because  his  conscience  says  nothing  to 


478     Of  the  Nature  and  Measures  of  Conscience.     [SERM.  xxm. 

him,  that  therefore  it  has  nothing  to  say.  Possibly  some 
never  so  much  as  doubted  of  the  safety  of  their  spiritual  estate 
in  all  their  lives ;  and  if  so.  let  them  not  flatter  themselves, 
but  rest  assured  that  they  have  so  much  the  more  reason  a 
great  deal  to  doubt  of  it  now.  For  the  causes  of  such  a  pro 
found  stillness  are  generally  gross  ignorance,  or  long  custom 
of  sinning,  or  both ;  and  these  are  very  dreadful  symptoms 
indeed  to  such  as  are  not  hell  and  damnation  proof.  When  a 
man's  wounds  cease  to  smart,  only  because  he  has  lost  his 
feeling,  they  are  nevertheless  mortal  for  his  not  seeing  his 
need  of  a  chirurgeon.  It  is  not  mere,  actual,  present  ease, 
but  ease  after  pain,  which  brings  the  most  durable  and  solid 
comfort.  Acquitment  before  trial  can  be  no  security.  Great 
and  strong  calms  usually  portend  and  go  before  the  most  vio 
lent  storms.  And  therefore,  since  storms  and  calms  (espe 
cially  with  reference  to  the  state  of  the  soul)  do  always  follow 
one  another,  certainly  of  the  two  it  is  much  more  eligible  to 
have  the  storm  first  and  the  calm  afterwards :  since  a  calm 
before  a  storm  is  commonly  a  peace  of  a  man's  own  making; 
but  a  calm  after  a  storm,  a  peace  of  God's. 

To  which  God,  who  only  can  speak  such  peace  to  us  as 
neither  the  world  nor  the  devil  shall  be  able  to  taJce  from 
us,  be  rendered  and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise, 
might,  majesty,  and  dominion,  both  now  and  for  evermore. 
Amen. 


SERMON  XXIV. 


A  FURTHER  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  NATURE  AND  MEASURES 
OF  CONSCIENCE: 

IN  A  SERMON    ON  1  JOHN  III.  21,  PREACHED    BEFORE    THE    UNIVERSITY,   AT 
CHRIST  CHURCH,  OXON. 

OCTOBER  30,  1692 


1  JOHN  iii.  21.  — Beloved,  if  our  heart  condemn  us  not,  we  have  confidence  toward  God. 

I  HAVE  discoursed  once  already  upon  these  words  in  this 
place.  In  which  discourse,  after  I  had  set  down  four 
several  false  grounds  upon  which  men,  in  judging  of  the 
safety  of  their  spiritual  estate,  were  apt  to  found  a  wrong 
confidence  towards  God,  and  shown  the  falsity  of  them  all; 
and  that  there  was  nothing  but  a  man's  own  heart  or  con 
science  which,  in  this  great  concern,  he  could  with  any 
safety  rely  upon;  I  did,  in  the  next  place,  cast  the  further 
prosecution  of  the  words  under  these  four  following  partic 
ulars  : 

1.  To  show,  How  the  heart  or  conscience  ought  to  he  in 
formed,  in  order  to  its  founding  in  us  a  rational  confidence, 
towards  God. 

2.  To   show,  How  and  by  what   means  we   may  get  our 
conscience  thus  informed,  and  afterwards  preserve  and  keep 
it  so. 

3.  To  show,  Whence  it  is  that  the  testimony  of  conscience, 
thus  informed,  comes  to  be  so  authentic,  and  so  much  to  be 
relied  upon.     And, 

4thly  and  lastly,  To  assign  some  particular  cases  or  instances 
in  which  the  confidence  suggested  by  it  does  most  eminently 
show  and  exert  itself. 


480  Of  tlie  Nature  and  [SBBM.  xxiv. 

Upon  the  first  of  which  heads,  to  wit,  How  the  heart  or 
conscience  ought  to  he  informed,  in  order  to  its  founding  in 
us  a  rational  confidence  towards  God,  after  I  had  premised 
something  ahout  an  erroneous  conscience,  and  shown  hoth 
what  influence  that  ought  to  have  upon  us,  and  what  regard 
we  ought  to  have  to  that  in  this  matter,  I  gathered  the  result 
of  all  into  this  one  conclusion  ;  namely,  That  such  a  conscience 
as  has  not  heen  wanting  to  itself,  in  endeavoring  the  utmost 
knowledge  of  its  duty,  and  the  clearest  information  about  the 
will  of  God,  that  its  power,  advantages,  and  opportunities 
could  aiford  it,  is  that  great  internal  judge  whose  absolution 
is  a  rational  and  sure  ground  of  confidence  towards  God.  This 
I  then  insisted  upon  at  large,  and  from  thence  proceeded  to 
the 

Second  particular,  which  was  to  show,  How  and  by  what 
means  we  might  get  our  conscience  thus  informed,  and  after 
wards  preserve  and  keep  it  so. 

Where,  amongst  those  many  ways  and  methods  which 
might,  no  doubt,  have  been  assigned  as  highly  conducing  to 
this  purpose,  I  singled  out  and  insisted  upon  only  these  four. 
As, 

1st,  That  the  voice  of  reason,  in  all  the  dictates  of  natural 
morality,  was  still  carefully  to  be  attended  to  by  a  strict 
observance  of  what  it  commanded,  but  especially  of  what  it 
forbade. 

2dly,  That  every  pious  motion  from  the  Spirit  of  God  was 
tenderly  to  be  cherished,  and  by  no  means  quenched  or 
checked,  either  by  resistance  or  neglect. 

3dly,  That  conscience  was  still  to  be  kept  close  to  the  rule 
of  God's  written  word  ;  and, 

4thly  and  lastly,  That  it  was  frequently  to  be  examined,  and 
severely  accounted  with. 

These  things  also  I  then  more  fully  enlarged  upon  ;  and  so 
closed  up  all  with  a  double  caution,  and  that  of  no  small  im 
portance  as  to  the  case  then  before  us :  as, 

First,  That  no  man  should  reckon  every  doubting  or  mis 
giving  of  his  heart,  about  the  safety  of  his  spiritual  estate, 
inconsistent  with  that  confidence  towards  God  which  is  here 
spoken  of  in  the  text;  and,  secondly,  That  no  man  should 
account  a  bare  silence  of  conscience,  in  not  accusing  or  dis- 


ii.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  481 

turbing  him,  a  sufficient  ground  for  such  a  confidence.  Of 
both  which  I  then  showed  the  fatal  consequence.  And  so,  not 
to  trouble  you  with  any  more  repetitions  than  these,  which 
were  just  and  necessary  to  lay  before  you  the  coherence  of  one 
thing  with  another,  I  shall  now  proceed  to  the  third  of  those 
four  particulars  first  proposed ;  which  was  to  show,  Whence  it 
is  that  the  testimony  of  conscience  (concerning  a  man's  spirit 
ual  estate)  comes  to  be  so  authentic,  and  so  much  to  be  relied 
upon. 

Now  the  force  and  credit  of  its  testimony  stands  upon  this 
double  ground. 

1st,  The  high  office  which  it  holds  immediately  from  God 
himself,  in  the  soul  of  man  ;  and, 

2dly,  Those  properties  or  qualities  which  peculiarly  fit  it  for 
the  discharge  of  this  high  office,  in  all  things  relating  to  the 
soul. 

1.  And  first,  for  its  office.  It  is  no  less  than  God's 
vicegerent  or  deputy,  doing  all  things  by  immediate  com 
mission  from  him.  It  commands  and  dictates  every  thing  in 
God's  name,  and  stamps  every  word  with  an  almighty  au 
thority.  So  that  it  is,  as  it  were,  a  kind  of  copy  or  transcript 
of  the  divine  sentence,  and  an  interpreter  of  the  sense  of 
Heaven.  And  from  hence  it  is,  that  sins  against  conscience 
(as  all  sins  against  light  and  conviction  are,  by  way  of  emi 
nence,  so  called)  are  of  so  peculiar  and  transcendent  a  guilt. 
For  that  every  such  sin  is  a  daring  and  direct  defiance  of  the 
divine  authority,  as  it  is  signified  and  reported  to  a  man  by 
his  conscience,  and  thereby  ultimately  terminates  in  God  him 
self. 

Nay,  and  this  vicegerent  of  God  has  one  prerogative  above 
all  God's  other  earthly  vicegerents ;  to  wit,  that  it  can  never 
be  deposed.  Such  a  strange,  sacred,  and  inviolable  majesty 
has  God  imprinted  upon  this  faculty ;  not  indeed  as  upon  an 
absolute,  independent  sovereign,  but  yet  with  so  great  a  com 
munication  of  something  next  to  sovereignty,  that  while  it 
keeps  within  its  proper  compass,  it  is  controllable  by  no 
mortal  power  upon  earth.  For  not  the  greatest  monarch 
in  the  world  can  countermand  conscience  so  far  as  to  make 
it  condemn  where  it  would  otherwise  acquit,  or  acquit 
where  it  would  otherwise  condemn ;  no,  neither  sword  nor 

VOL.  I.  31 


482  Of  the  Nature  and  [SEMI.  xxiv. 

sceptre  can  come  at  it ;  but  it  is  above  and  beyond  the  reach 
of  both. 

And  if  it  were  not  for  this  awful  and  majestic  character 
which  it  bears,  whence  could  it  be  that  the  stoutest  and 
bravest  hearts  droop  and  sneak  when  conscience  frowns  :  and 
the  most  abject  and  afflicted  wretch  feels  an  unspeakable  and 
even  triumphant  joy  when  the  judge  within  absolves  and 
applauds  him.  When  a  man  has  done  any  villainous  act, 
though  under  countenance  of  the  highest  place  and  power, 
and  under  covert  of  the  closest  secrecy,  his  conscience,  for  all 
that,  strikes  him  like  a  clap  of  thunder,  and  depresses  him  to 
a  perpetual  trepidation,  horror,  and  poorness  of  spirit;  so 
that,  like  Nero,  though  surrounded  with  his  Roman  legions 
and  Pretorian  bands,  he  yet  skulks,  and  hides  himself,  and  is 
ready  to  fly  to  every  thing  for  refuge,  though  he  sees  nothing 
to  fly  from.  And  all  this,  because  he  has  heard  a  condemning 
sentence  from  within,  which  the  secret  forebodings  of  his 
mind  tell  him  will  be  ratified  by  a  sad  and  certain  execution 
from  above :  on  the  other  side,  what  makes  a  man  so  cheerful, 
so  bright  and  confident  in  his  comforts,  but  because  he  finds 
himself  acquitted  by  God's  high  commissioner  and  deputy  ? 
Which  is  as  much  as  a  pardon  under  God's  own  hand,  under 
the  broad  seal  of  Heaven,  (as  I  may  so  express  it.)  For  a  king 
never  condemns  any  whom  his  judges  have  absolved,  nor  ab 
solves  whom  his  judges  have  condemned,  whatsoever  the  peo 
ple  and  republicans  may. 

Now  from  this  principle,  that  the  authority  of  conscience 
stands  founded  upon  its  vicegerency  and  deputation  under  God, 
several  very  important  inferences  may,  or  rather  indeed  una 
voidably  must,  ensue.  Two  of  which  I  shall  single  out  and 
speak  of;  as, 

First,  We  collect  from  hence  the  absurdity  and  imperti 
nence;  and, 

Secondly,  The  impudence  and  impiety  of  most  of  those 
pretenses  of  conscience  which  have  borne  such  a  mighty 
sway  all  the  world  over,  and  in  these  poor  nations  especially. 

1.  And  first,  for  the  absurdity  and  impertinence  of  them. 
What  a  rattle  and  a  noise  has  this  word  conscience  made ! 
How  many  battles  has  it  fought !  How  many  churches  has  it 
robbed,  ruined,  and  reformed  to  ashes !  How  many  laws  has 


]  JOHN  in.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  483 

it  trampled  upon,  dispensed  with,  and  addressed  against !  And, 
in  a  word,  how  many  governments  has  it  overturned  !  Such 
is  the  mischievous  force  of  a  plausible  word  applied  to  a  de 
testable  thing. 

The  allegation  or  plea  of  conscience  ought  never  to  be  ad 
mitted  barely  for  itself :  for  when  a  thing  obliges  only  by  a 
borrowed  authority,  it  is  ridiculous  to  allege  it  for  its  own. 
Take  a  lieutenant,  a  commissioner,  or  ambassador  of  any 
prince;  and,  so  far  as  he  represents  his  prince,  all  that  he 
does  or  declares  under  that  capacity  has  the  same  force  and 
validity  as  if  actually  done  or  declared  by  the  prince  himself 
in  person.  But  then  how  far  does  this  reach?  Why,  just  so 
far  as  he  keeps  close  to  his  instructions  :  but  when  he  once 
balks  them,  though  what  he  does  may  be  indeed  a  public 
crime  or  a  national  mischief,  yet  it  is  but  a  private  act ;  and 
the  doer  of  it  may  chance  to  pay  his  head  for  the  presumption. 
For  still,  as  great  as  the  authority  of  such  kind  of  persons 
is,  it  is  not  founded  upon  their  own  will,  nor  upon  their  own 
judgment,  but  upon  their  commission. 

In  like  manner,  every  dictate  of  this  vicegerent  of  God, 
where  it  has  a  divine  word  or  precept  to  back  it,  carries  a 
divine  authority  with  it.  But  if  no  such  word  can  be  pro 
duced,  it  may  indeed  be  a  strong  opinion  or  persuasion,  but  it 
is  not  conscience :  and  no  one  thing  in  the  world  has  done 
more  mischief,  and  caused  more  delusions  amongst  men,  than 
their  not  distinguishing  between  conscience  and  mere  opinion 
or  persuasion. 

Conscience  is  a  Latin  word,  (though  with  an  English  ter 
mination,)  and,  according  to  the  very  notation  of  it,  imports 
a  double  or  joint  knowledge  ;  to  wit,  one  of  a  divine  law  or  rule, 
and  the  other  of  a  man's  own  action  :  and  so  is  properly  the 
application  of  a  general  law  to  a  particular  instance  of  prac 
tice.  The  law  of  God,  for  example,  says,  Thou  shalt  not  steal  ; 
and  the  mind  of  man  tells  him  that  the  taking  of  such  or 
such  a  thing  from  a  person  lawfully  possessed  of  it  is  stealing. 
Whereupon  the  conscience,  joining  the  knowledge  of  both 
these  together,  pronounces  in  the  name  of  God,  that  such  a 
particular  action  ought  not  to  be  done.  And  this  is  the  true 
procedure  of  conscience,  always  supposing  a  law  from  God 
before  it  pretends  to  lay  any  obligation  upon  man :  for  still 


484  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  xxiv. 

I  aver  that  conscience  neither  is  nor  ought  to  be  its  own 
rule. 

I  question  not,  I  confess,  but  mere  opinion  or  persuasion 
may  be  every  whit  as  strong,  and  have  as  forcible  an  influence 
upon  a  man's  actions  as  conscience  itself.  But  then,  we 
know,  strength  or  force  is  one  thing,  and  authority  quite 
another.  As  a  rogue  upon  the  highway  may  have  as  strong 
an  arm,  and  take  off  a  man's  head  as  cleverly  as  the  execu 
tioner.  But  then  there  is  a  vast  disparity  in  the  two  actions, 
when  one  of  them  is  murder,  and  the  other  justice :  nay,  and 
our  Saviour  himself  told  his  disciples,  that  men  should  both 
kill  them,  and  think  that  in  so  doing  they  did  God's  service.  So 
that  here,  we  see,  was  a  full  opinion  and  persuasion,  and  a 
very  zealous  one  too,  of  the  high  meritoriousness  of  what 
they  did ;  but  still  there  was  no  law,  no  word  or  command 
of  God  to  ground  it  upon,  and  consequently  it  was  not  con 
science. 

Now  the  notion  of  conscience  thus  stated,  if  firmly  kept  to 
and  thoroughly  driven  home,  would  effectually  baffle  and  con 
found  all  those  senseless,  though  clamorous  pretenses  of  the 
schismatical  opposers  of  the  constitutions  of  our  church. 
In  defense  of  which  I  shall  not  speak  so  much  as  one  syl 
lable  against  the  indulgence  and  toleration  granted  to  these 
men.  No  ;  since  they  have  it,  let  them,  in  God's  name,  enjoy 
it,  and  the  government  make  the  best  of  it.  But  since  I  can 
not  find  that  the  law  which  tolerates  them  in  their  way  of 
worship  (and  it  does  no  more)  does  at  all  forbid  us  to  defend 
ours,  it  were  earnestly  to  be  wished  that  all  hearty  lovers  of 
the  church  of  England  would  assert  its  excellent  constitution 
more  vigorously  now  than  ever :  and  especially  in  such  con 
gregations  as  this ;  in  which  there  are  so  many  young  per 
sons,  upon  the  well  or  ill  principling  of  whom,  next  under 
God,  depends  the  happiness  or  misery  of  this  church  and 
state.  For  if  such  should  be  generally  prevailed  upon  by 
hopes  or  fears,  by  base  examples,  by  trimming  and  time-serv 
ing,  (which  are  Jbut  two  words  for  the  same  thing,)  to  abandon 
and  betray  the  church  of  England,  by  nauseating  her  pious, 
prudent,  and  wholesome  orders,  (of  which  I  have  seen  some 
scurvy  instances,)  we  may  rest  assured  that  this  will  certainly 
produce  confusion,  and  that  confusion  will  as  certainly  end  in 
popery. 


i  JOHN  Hi.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  485 

And  therefore,  since  the  Liturgy,  rites,  and  ceremonies  of 
our  church  have  been  and  still  are  so  much  caviled  and 
struck  at,  and  all  upon  a  plea  of  conscience,  it  will  concern 
us,  as  becomes  men  of  sense,  seriously  to  examine  the  force 
of  this  plea,  which  our  adversaries  are  still  setting  up  against 
us  as  the  grand  pillar  and  buttress  of  the  good  old  cause  of 
nonconformity.  For  come  to  any  dissenting  brother,  and  ask 
him,  Why  can  not  you  communicate  with  the  church  of  Eng 
land  ?  "  Oh,"  says  he,  "  it  is  against  my  conscience ;  my 
conscience  will  not  suffer  me  to  pray  by  a  set  form,  to  kneel 
at  the  sacrament,  to  hear  divine  service  read  by  one  in  a  sur 
plice,  or  to  use  the  cross  in  baptism,"  or  the  like. 

Very  well ;  and  is  this  the  case  then,  that  it  is  all  pure 
conscience  that  keeps  you  from  complying  with  the  rule  and 
order  of  the  church  in  these  matters  ?  If  so,  then  produce 
me  some  word  or  law  of  God  forbidding  these  things.  For 
conscience  never  commands  or  forbids  any  thing  authenti 
cally,  but  there  is  some  law  of  God  which  commands  or  for 
bids  it  first.  Conscience  (as  might  be  easily  shown)  being  no 
distinct  power  or  faculty  from  the  mind  of  man,  but  the  mind 
of  man  itself  applying  the  general  rule  of  God's  law  to  par 
ticular  cases  and  actions.  This  is  truly  and  properly  con 
science.  And  therefore  show  me  such  a  law ;  and  that,  either 
as  a  necessary  dictate  of  right  reason,  or  a  positive  injunction 
in  God's  revealed  word  :  (for  these  two  are  all  the  ways  by 
which  God  speaks  to  men  nowadays :)  I  say,  show  me  some 
thing  from  hence  which  countermands  or  condemns  all  or 
any  of  the  forementioned  ceremonies  of  our  church,  and  then 
I  will  yield  the  cause.  But  if  no  such  reason,  no  such  script 
ure  can  be  brought  to  appear  in  their  behalf  against  us,  but 
that  with  screwed  face  and  doleful  whine  they  only  ply  you 
with  senseless  harangues  of  conscience  against  carnal  ordi 
nances,  the  dead  letter,  and  human  inventions  on  the  one  hand, 
and  loud  outcries  for  a  further  reformation  on  the  other ;  then 
rest  you  assured  that  they,  have  a  design  upon  your  pocket, 
and  that  the  word  conscience  is  used  only  as  an  instrument  to 
pick  it ;  and  more  particularly  as  it  calls  it  a  further  reforma 
tion,  signifies  no  more,  with  reference  to  the  church,  than  as 
if  one  man  should  come  to  another  and  say,  "  Sir,  I  have  al 
ready  taken  away  your  cloak,  and  do  fully  intend,  if  I  can,  to 


486  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  Xxiv. 

take  away  your  coat  also."  This  is  the  true  meaning  of  this 
word  further  reformation ;  and  so  long  as  you  understand  it  in 
this  sense,  you  can  not  be  imposed  upon  by  it. 

Well,  but  if  these  mighty  men  at  chapter  and  verse  can 
produce  you  no  scripture  to  overthrow  our  church  ceremonies, 
I  will  undertake  to  produce  scripture  enough  to  warrant 
them ;  even  all  those  places  which  absolutely  enjoin  obedience 
and  submission  to  lawful  governors  in  all  not  unlawful  things  : 
particularly  that  in  1  Pet.  ii.  13,  and  that  in  Heb.  xiii.  17,  (of 
which  two  places  more  again  presently,)  together  with  the 
other  in  1  Cor.  xiv.,  last  verse,  enjoining  order  and  decency 
in  God's  worship,  and  in  all  things  relating  to  it.  And  con 
sequently,  till  these  men  can  prove  the  forementioned  things, 
ordered  by  our  church,  to  be  either  intrinsically  unlawful  or 
indecent,  I  do  here  affirm  by  the  authority  of  the  foregoing 
scriptures,  that  the  use  of  them,  as  they  stand  established 
amongst  us,  is  necessary ;  and  that  all  pretenses  or  pleas  of 
conscience  to  the  contrary  are  nothing  but  cant  and  cheat, 
flam  and  delusion.  In  a  word,  the  ceremonies  of  the  church 
of  England  are  as  necessary  as  the  injunctions  of  an  un 
doubtedly  lawful  authority,  the  practice  of  the  primitive 
church,  and  the  general  rules  of  decency,  determined  to  par 
ticulars  of  the  greatest  decency,  can  make  them  necessary. 
And  I  would  not  for  all  the  world  be  arraigned  at  the  last 
and  great  day  for  disturbing  the  church,  and  disobeying  gov 
ernment,  and  have  no  better  plea  for  so  doing  than  what 
those  of  the  separation  were  ever  yet  able  to  defend  them 
selves  by. 

But  some  will  here  say  perhaps,  If  this  be  all  that  you  re 
quire  of  us,  we  both  can  and  do  bring  you  scripture  against 
your  church  ceremonies ;  even  that  which  condemns  all  will 
worship,  Col.  ii.  23,  and  such  other  like  places.  To  which  I 
answer,  first,  that  the  will  worship,  forbidden  in  that  script 
ure,  is  so  termed,  not  from  the  circumstance,  but  from  the 
object  of  religious  worship  ;  and  we  readily  own  that  it  is  by 
no  means  in  the  church's  power  to  appoint  or  choose  whom 
or  what  it  will  worship.  But  that  does  not  infer  that  it  is 
not  therefore  in  the  church's  power  to  appoint  how  and  in 
what  manner  it  will  worship  the  true  object  of  religious  wor 
ship  ;  provided  that  in  so  doing  it  observes  such  rules  of  de- 


1  JOHN  ill.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  487 

cency  as  are  proper  and  conducing  to  that  purpose.  So  that 
this  scripture  is  wholly  irrelative  to  the  case  hefore  us,  and 
as  impertinently  applied  to  it  as  any  poor  text  in  the  Revela 
tion  was  ever  applied  to  the  grave  and  profound  whimseys  of 
some  modern  interpreters.  But  secondly,  to  this  objection 
about  will  ivorship,  I  answer  yet  further,  that  the  foremen- 
tioned  ceremonies  of  the  church  of  England  are  no  worship, 
nor  part  of  God's  worship  at  all,  nor  were  ever  pretended  so 
to  be ;  and,  if  they  are  not  so  much  as  worship,  I  am  sure 
they  can  not  be  will  worship.  But  we  own  them  only  for 
circumstances,  modes,  and  solemn  usages,  by  which  God's 
worship  is  orderly  and  decently  performed  :  I  say,  we  pretend 
them  not  to  be  parts  of  divine  worship,  but,  for  all  that,  to 
be  such  things  as  the  divine  worship,  in  some  instance  or 
other,  can  not  be  without :  for  that  which  neither  does  nor 
can  give  vital  heat,  may  yet  be  necessary  to  preserve  it :  and 
he  who  should  strip  himself  of  all  that  is  no  part  of  himself 
would  quickly  find,  or  rather  feel,  the  inconvenience  of  such  a 
practice,  and  have  cause  to  wish  for  a  body'  as  void  of  sense 
as  such  an  argument. 

Now  the  consequence  in  both  these  cases  is  perfectly  par 
allel  :  and  if  so,  you  may  rest  satisfied  that  what  is  nonsense 
upon  a  principle  of  reason,  will  never  be  sense  upon  a  princi 
ple  of  religion.  But  as  touching  the  necessity  of  the  afore 
said  usages  in  the  church  of  England,  I  shall  lay  down  these 
four  propositions  : 

1.  That  circumstantials  in  the  worship  of  God  (as  well  as  in 
all  other  human  actions)  are  so  necessary  to  it,  that  it  can  not 
possibly  be  performed  without  them. 

2.  That  decency  in  the  circumstantials  of  God's  worship  is 
absolutely  necessary. 

3.  That  the  general  rule  and  precept  of  decency  is  not  ca 
pable  of  being  reduced  to  practice,  but  as  it  is  exemplified  in, 
and  determined  to,  particular  instances.     And, 

4thly  and  lastly,  That  there  is  more  of  the  general  nature 
of  decency  in  those  particular  usages  and  ceremonies  which 
the  church  of  England  has  pitched  upon,  than  is  or  can  be 
shown  in  any  other  whatsoever. 

These  things  I  affirm;  and  when  you  have  put  them  all 
together,  let  any  one  give  me  a  solid  and  sufficient  reason  for 


488  Of  the  Nature  and  [SEKM.  xxiv. 

the  giving  up  those  few  ceremonies  of  our  church,  if  he  can. 
All  the  reason  that  I  could  ever  yet  hear  alleged  by  the  chief 
factors  for  a  general  intromission  of  all  sorts,  sects,  and  per 
suasions  into  our  communion  is,  that  those  who  separate  from 
us  are  stiff  and  obstinate,  and  will  not  submit  to  the  rules  and 
orders  of  our  church,  and  that  therefore  they  ought  to  be 
taken  away.  Which  is  a  goodly  reason  indeed,  and  every 
way  worthy  of  the  wisdom  and  integrity  of  those  who  allege 
it.  And  to  show  that  it  is  so,  let  it  be  but  transferred  from 
the  ecclesiastical  to  the  civil  government,  from  church  to 
state';  and  let  all  laws  be  abrogated  which  any  great  or  sturdy 
multitude  of  men  have  no  mind  to  submit  to.  That  is,  in 
other  words,  let  laws  be  made  to  obey,  and  not  to  be  obeyed ; 
and  upon  these  terms  I  doubt  not  but  you  will  find  that  king 
dom  (or  rather  that  commonwealth)  finely  governed  in  a  short 
time. 

And  thus  I  have  shown  the  absurdity,  folly,  and  imperti 
nence  of  alleging  the  obligation  of  conscience,  where  there  is 
no  law  or  command  of  God  mediate  or  immediate  to  found 
that  obligation  upon.  And  yet,  as  bad  as  this  is,  it  were  well 
if  the  bare  absurdity  of  these  pretenses  were  the  worst  thing 
which  we  had  to  charge  them  with.  But  it  is  not  so.  For 
our  second  and  next  inference  from  the  foregoing  principle  of 
the  vicegerency  of  conscience  under  God,  will  show  us  also 
the  daring  impudence  and  downright  impiety  of  many  of  those 
fulsome  pleas  of  conscience  which  the  world  has  been  too 
often  and  too  scandalously  abused  by.  For  a  man  to  sin 
against  his  conscience,  is  doubtless  a  great  wickedness.  But 
to  make  God  himself  a  party  in  the  sin,  is  a  much  greater. 
For  this  is  to  plead  God's  authority  against  God's  very  law ; 
which  doubles  the  sin,  and  adds  blasphemy  to  rebellion.  And 
yet  such  things  we  have  seen  done  amongst  us.  An  horrid, 
unnatural  civil  war  raised  and  carried  on ;  the  purest  and 
most  primitively  reformed  church  in  the  world  laid  in  the 
dust ;  and  one  of  the  best  and  most  innocent  princes  that 
ever  sat  upon  a  throne,  by  a  barbarous,  unheard-of  violence, 
hurried  to  his  grave  in  a  bloody  sheet,  and  not  so  much  as 
suffered  to  rest  there  to  this  day ;  and  all  this  by  men  acting 
under  the  most  solemn  pretenses  of  conscience,  that  hypocrisy 
perhaps  ever  yet  presumed  to  outface  the  world  with. 


i  JOHN  iii.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  489 

And  are  not  the  principles  of  those  wretches  still  owned, 
and  their  persons  sainted  by  a  race  of  men  of  the  same  stamp, 
risen  up  in  their  stead,  the  sworn  mortal  enemies  of  our 
church  ?  And  yet,  for  whose  sake  some  projectors  amongst 
us  have  been  turning  every  stone  to  transform,  mangle,  and 
degrade  its  noble  constitution  to  the  homely,  mechanic  model 
of  those  republican,  imperfect  churches  abroad ;  which,  in 
stead  of  being  any  rule  or  pattern  to  us,  ought  in  all  reason  to 
receive  one  from  us.  Nay,  and  so  short-sighted  are  some  in 
their  politics  as  not  to  discern  all  this  while,  that  it  is  not 
the  service  but  the  revenue  of  our  church  which  is  struck  at ; 
and  not  any  passages  of  our  Liturgy,  but  the  property  of  our 
lands,  which  these  reformers  would  have  altered. 

For  I  am  sure  no  other  alteration  will  satisfy  dissenting 
consciences ;  no,  nor  this  neither  very  long,  without  an  utter 
abolition  of  all  that  looks  like  order  or  government  in  the 
church.  And  this  we  may  be  sure  of,  if  we  do  but  consider 
both  the  inveterate  malice  of  the  Romish  party,  which  sets 
these  silly,  unthinking  tools  a- work,  and  withal  that  mon 
strous  principle  or  maxim  which  those  who  divide  from  us 
(at  least  most  of  them)  roundly  profess,  avow,  and  govern 
their  consciences  by ;  namely,  That  in  all  matters  that  con 
cern  religion  or  the  church,  though  a  thing  or  action  be  never 
so  indifferent  or  lawful  in  itself,  yet  if  it  be  commanded  or 
enjoined  by  the  government,  either  civil  or  ecclesiastical,  it 
becomes  ipso  facto,  by  being  so  commanded,  utterly  unlawful, 
and  such  as  they  can  by  no  means  with  good  conscience 
comply  with. 

Which  one  detestable  tenet  or  proposition,  carrying  in  it 
the  very  quintessence  and  vital  spirit  of  all  nonconformity,  ab 
solutely  cashiers  and  cuts  off  all  church  government  at  one 
stroke,  and  is  withal  such  an  insolent,  audacious  defiance  of 
Almighty  God,  under  the  mask  of  conscience,  as  perhaps  none 
in  former  ages,  who  so  much  as  wore  the  name  of  Christians, 
ever  arrived  to  or  made  profession  of. 

For  to  resume  the  scriptures  afore  quoted  by  us ;  and  par 
ticularly  that  in  1  Pet.  ii.  13.  Submit  yourselves  to  every  ordi 
nance  of  man,  says  the  Spirit  of  God,  speaking  by  that  apostle. 
But  say  these  men,  If  the  ordinance  of  man  enjoins  you  the 
practice  of  any  thing  with  reference  to  religion  or  the  church, 


490  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  xxiv. 

though  never  so  lawful  in  itself,  you  can  not  with  a  good  con 
science  submit  to  the  ordinance  of  man  in  that  case  :  that  is, 
in  other  words,  God  says  they  must  submit,  and  they  say 
they  must  not. 

Again,  in  the  forementioned  Heb.  xiii.  17.  The  apostle  bids 
them  (and  in  them  all  Christians  whatsoever)  to  obey  those 
who  have  the  rule  over  them ;  speaking  there  of  church  rulers ; 
for  he  tells  them,  that  they  were  such  as  watched  for  their  souls. 
But,  says  the  Separatist,  If  those  who  have  the  rule  over  you 
should  command  you  any  thing  about  church  affairs,  you  can 
not,  you  ought  not  in  conscience  to  obey  them ;  forasmuch  as, 
according  to  that  grand  principle  of  theirs,  newly  specified  by 
us,  every  such  command  makes  obedience  to  a  thing  otherwise 
lawful,  to  become  unlawful ;  and  consequently,  upon  the  same 
principle,  rulers  must  not,  can  not  be  obeyed  :  unless  we  could 
imagine  that  there  may  be  such  a  thing  as  obedience  on  the 
one  side,  when  there  must  be  no  such  thing  as  a  command  on 
the  other ;  which  would  make  pleasant  sense  of  it  indeed,  and 
fit  for  none  but  a  dissenting  reason,  as  well  as  conscience,  to 
assert.  For  though  these  men  have  given  the  world  too  many 
terrible  proofs  of  their  own  example  that  there  may  be  com 
mands  and  no  obedience,  yet,  I  believe,  it  will  put  their  little 
logic  hard  to  it  to  prove  that  there  can  be  any  obedience 
where  there  is  no  command.  And  therefore  it  unanswerably 
follows,  that  the  abettors  of  the  forementioned  principles  plead 
conscience  in  a  direct  and  barefaced  contradiction  to  God's 
express  command. 

And  now,  I  beseech  you,  consider  with  yourselves ;  (for  it 
is  no  slight  matter  that  I  am  treating  of;)  I  say,  consider 
what  you  ought  to  judge  of  those  insolent,  unaccountable 
boasts  of  conscience,  which,  like  so  many  fireballs  or  mouth- 
granadoes,  as  I  may  so  term  them,  are  every  day  thrown  at 
our  church.  The  apostle  bids  us  prove  all  things.  And  will 
you  then  take  conscience  at  every  turn  upon  its  own  word  ? 
upon  the  forlorn  credit  of  every  bold  impostor  who  pleads  it  ? 
Will  you  sell  your  reason,  your  church,  and  your  religion,  and 
both  of  them  the  best  in  the  world,  for  a  name  ?  and  that  a 
wrested,  abused,  misapplied  name  ?  Knaves,  when  they  design 
some  more  than  ordinary  villainy,  never  fail  to  make  use  of 
this  plea;  and  it  is  because  they  always  find  fools  ready  to 
believe  it. 


i  JOHN  ill.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  491 

But  you  will  say  then,  What  course  must  be  taken  to  fence 
against  this  imposture  ?  Why  truly,  the  best  that  I  know 
of,  I  have  told  you  before ;  namely,  that  whensoever  you  hear 
any  of  these  sly,  sanctified  sycophants,  with  turned-up  eye 
and  shrug-  of  shoulder,  pleading  conscience  for  or  against 
any  thing  or  practice,  you  would  forthwith  ask  them  what 
word  of  God  they  have  to  bottom  that  judgment  of  their 
conscience  upon?  Forasmuch  as  conscience,  being  God's 
vicegerent,  was  never  commissioned  by  him  to  govern  us  in 
its  own  name ;  but  must  still  have  some  divine  word  or  law 
to  support  and  warrant  it.  And  therefore  call  for  such  a 
word ;  and  that,  either  from  scripture  or  from  manifest  uni 
versal  reason,  and  insist  upon  it,  so  as  not  to  be  put  off  with 
out  it.  And  if  they  can  produce  you  no  such  thing  from 
either  of  them,  (as  they  never  can,)  then  rest  assured  that 
they  are  errant  cheats  and  hypocrites ;  and  that,  for  all  their 
big  words,  the  conscience  of  such  men  is  so  far  from  being 
able  to  give  them  any  true  confidence  towards  God,  that  it 
can  not  so  much  as  give  them  confidence  towards  a  wise  and 
good  man,  no,  nor  yet  towards  themselves,  who  are  far  from 
being  either. 

And  thus  I  have  shown  you  the  first  ground  upon  which 
the  testimony  of  conscience  (concerning  a  man's  spiritual 
estate)  comes  to  be  so  authentic  and  so  much  to  be  relied 
upon ;  to  wit,  the  high  office  which  it  holds  as  the  vicegerent 
of  God  himself  in  the  soul  of  man  :  together  with  the  two 
grand  inferences  drawn  from  thence.  The  first  of  them  show 
ing  the  absurdity,  folly,  and  impertinence  of  pretending  con 
science  against  any  thing,  when  there  is  no  law  of  God  medi 
ate  or  immediate  against  it :  and  the  other,  setting  forth  the 
intolerable  blasphemy  and  impiety  of  pretending  conscience 
for  any  thing  which  the  known  law  of  God  is  directly  against 
and  stands  in  open  defiance  of. 

Proceed  we  now  to  the  second  ground  from  which  con 
science  derives  the  credit  of  its  testimony  in  judging  of  our 
spiritual  estate ;  and  that  consists  in  those  properties  and 
qualities  which  so  peculiarly  fit  it  for  the  discharge  of  its 
forementioned  office  in  all  things  relating  to  the  soul.  And 
these  are  three : 

First,  The  quickness  of  its  sight. 


4-92  Of  tlw  Nature  and  [SKHM.  xxiv. 

Secondly,  The  tenderness  of  its  sense ;  and, 

Thirdly  and  lastly,  Its  rigorous  and  impartial  way  of  giving 
sentence. 

Of  each  of  which  in  their  order.  And  first  for  the  ex 
traordinary  quickness  and  sagacity  of  its  sight,  in  spying  out 
every  thing  which  can  any  way  concern  the  estate  of  the 
soul.  As  the  voice  of  it,  I  showed,  was  as  loud  as  thunder,  so 
the  sight  of  it  is  as  piercing  and  quick  as  lightning.  It  pres 
ently  sees  the  guilt,  and  looks  through  all  the  flaws  and 
blemishes  of  a  sinful  action ;  and  on  the  other  side,  observes 
the  candidness  of  a  man's  very  principles,  the  sincerity  of  his 
intentions,  and  the  whole  carriage  of  every  circumstance  in  a 
virtuous  performance.  So  strict  and  accurate  is  this  spiritual 
inquisition. 

Upon  which  account  it  is  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
perfect  secrecy,  to  encourage  a  rational  mind  to  the  perpe 
tration  of  any  base  action.  For  a  man  must  first  extinguish 
and  put  out  the  great  light  within  him,  his  conscience,  he 
must  get  away  from  himself,  and  shake  off  the  thousand  wit 
nesses  which  he  always  carries  about  him,  before  he  can  be 
alone.  And  where  there  is  no  solitude,  I  am  sure  there  can 
be  no  secrecy. 

It  is  confessed  indeed  that  a  long  and  a  bold  course  of 
sinning  may  (as  we  have  shown  elsewhere)  very  much  dim 
and  darken  the  discerning  faculty  of  conscience.  For  so  the 
apostle  assures  us  it  did  with  those  in  Rom.  i.  21,  and  the 
same,  no  doubt,  it  does  every  day ;  but  still  so  as  to  leave  such 
persons,  both  then  and  now,  many  notable  lucid  intervals; 
sufficient  to  convince  them  of  their  deviations  from  reason 
and  natural  religion ;  and  thereby  to  render  them  inexcusa 
ble  ;  and  so,  in  a  word,  to  stop  their  mouths,  though  not  save 
their  souls.  In  short,  their  conscience  was  not  stark  dead, 
but  under  a  kind  of  spiritual  apoplexy  or  deliquium.  The 
operation  was  hindered,  but  the  faculty  not  destroyed.  And 
now,  if  conscience  be  naturally  thus  apprehensive  and  saga 
cious,  certainly  this  ought  to  be  another  great  ground,  over 
and  above  its  bare  authority,  why  we  should  trust  and  rely 
upon  the  reports  of  it.  For  knowledge  is  still  the  ground 
and  reason  of  trust :  and  so  much  as  any  one  has  of  discern 
ment,  so  far  he  is  secured  from  error  and  deception,  and  for 


1  JOHN  iii.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  493 

that  cause  fit  to  be  confided  in.  No  witness  so  much  to  he 
credited  as  an  eye-witness.  And  conscience  is  like  the  great 
eye  of  the  world,  the  sun,  always  open,  always  making  dis 
coveries.  Justly  therefore  may  we  by  the  light  of  it  take  a 
view  of  our  condition. 

2dly,  Another  property  or  quality  of  conscience,  enabling 
it  to  judge  so  truly  of  our  spiritual  estate,  is  the  tenderness 
of  its  sense.  For  as,  by  the  quickness  of  its  sight,  it  directs 
us  what  to  do,  or  not  to  do,  so,  by  this  tenderness  of  its 
sense,  it  excuses  or  accuses  us,  as  we  have  done  or  not  done 
according  to  those  directions.  And  it  is  altogether  as  nice, 
delicate,  and  tender  in  feeling  as  it  can  be  perspicacious  and 
quick  in  seeing.  For  conscience,  you  know,  is  still  called 
and  accounted  the  eye  of  the  soul :  and  how  troublesome  is 
the  least  mote  or  dust  falling  into  the  eye  !  and  how  quickly 
does  it  weep  and  water,  upon  the  least  grievance  that  afflicts  it ! 

And  no  less  exact  is  the  sense  which  conscience,  preserved 
in  its  native  purity,  has  of  the  least  sin.  For  as  great  sins 
waste,  so  small  ones  are  enough  to  wound  it ;  and  every 
wound,  you  know,  is  painful,  till  it  festers  beyond  recovery. 
As  soon  as  ever  sin  gives  the  blow,  conscience  is  the  first 
thing  that  feels  the  smart.  No  sooner  does  the  poisoned 
arrow  enter,  but  that  begins  to  bleed  inwardly ;  sin  and  sor 
row,  the  venom  of  one  and  the  anguish  of  the  other,  being 
things  inseparable. 

Conscience,  if  truly  tender,  never  complains  without  a 
cause ;  though,  I  confess,  there  is  a  new-fashioned  sort  of 
tenderness  of  conscience  which  always  does  so  :  but  that  is 
like  the  tenderness  of  a  bog  or  quagmire ;  and  it  is  very  dan 
gerous  coming  near  it,  for  fear  of  being  swallowed  up  by  it. 
For  when  conscience  has  once  acquired  this  artificial  tender 
ness,  it  will  strangely  enlarge  or  contract  its  swallow,  as  it 
pleases ;  so  that  sometimes  a  camel  shall  slide  down  with  ease, 
where  at  other  times  even  a  gnat  may  chance  to  stick  by  the 
way.  It  is  indeed  such  a  kind  of  tenderness  as  makes  the 
person  who  has  it  generally  very  tender  of  obeying  the  laws, 
but  never  so  of  breaking  them.  And  therefore,  since  it  is 
commonly  at  such  variance  with  the  law,  I  think  the  law  is 
the  fittest  thing  to  deal  with  it. 

In  the  mean  time,  let  no  man  deceive  himself,  or  think 


434  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  xxiv. 

that  true  tenderness  of  conscience  is  any  thing  else  but  an 
awful  and  exact  sense  of  the  rule  which  should  direct,  and  of 
the  law  which  should  govern  it.  And  while  it  steers  by  this 
compass,  and  is  sensible  of  every  declination  from  it,  so  long 
it  is  truly  and  properly  tender,  and  fit  to  be  relied  upon, 
whether  it  checks  or  approves  a  man  for  what  he  does.  For 
from  hence  alone  springs  its  excusing  or  accusing  power  :  all 
accusation,  in  the  very  nature  of  the  thing,  still  supposing, 
and  being  founded  upon,  some  law :  for  where  there  is  no  law 
there  can  be  no  transgression  :  and  where  there  can  be  no 
transgression,  I  am  sure  there  ought  to  be  no  accusation. 

And  here,  when  I  speak  of  law,  I  mean  both  the  law  of 
God  and  of  man  too.  For  where  the  matter  of  a  law  is  a 
thing  not  evil,  every  law  of  man  is  virtually,  and  at  a  second 
hand,  the  law  of  God  also  :  forasmuch  as  it  binds  in  the 
strength  of  the  divine  law,  commanding  obedience  to  every 
ordinance  of  man,  as  we  have  already  shown.  And  therefore 
all  tenderness  of  conscience  against  such  laws  is  hypocrisy, 
and  patronized  by  none  but  men  of  design,  who  look  upon  it 
as  the  fittest  engine  to  get  into  power  by ;  which,  by  the  way, 
when  they  are  once  possessed  of,  they  generally  manage  with 
as  little  tenderness  as  they  do  with  conscience :  of  which  we 
have  had  but  too  much  experience  already,  and  it  would  be 
but  ill  venturing  upon  more. 

In  a  word,  conscience,  not  acting  by  and  under  a  law,  is  a 
boundless,  daring,  and  presumptuous  thing :  and  for  any  one 
by  virtue  thereof  to  challenge  to  himself  a  privilege  of  doing 
what  he  will,  and  of  being  unaccountable  for  what  he  does,  is 
in  all  reason  too  much  either  for  man  or  angel  to  pretend  to. 

3dly,  The  third  and  last  property  of  conscience  which  I 
shall  mention,  and  which  makes  the  verdict  of  it  so  authentic, 
is  its  great  and  rigorous  impartiality.  For  as  its  wonderful 
apprehensiveness  made  that  it  could  not  easily  be  deceived, 
so  this  makes  that  it  will  by  no  means  deceive.  A  judge,  you 
know,  may  be  skillful  in  understanding  a  cause,  and  yet  par 
tial  in  giving  sentence.  But  it  is  much  otherwise  with  con 
science  ;  no  artifice  can  induce  it  to  accuse  the  innocent,  or 
to  absolve  the  guilty.  No ;  we  may  as  well  bribe  the  light 
and  the  day  to  represent  white  things  black,  or  black  white. 

What  pitiful  things  are  power,  rhetoric,  or  riches,  when 


1  JOHN  iii.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  495 

they  would  terrify,  dissuade,  or  buy  off  conscience  from  pro 
nouncing  sentence  according  to  the  merit  of  a  man's  actions ! 
For  still,  as  we  have  shown,  conscience  is  a  copy  of  the  divine 
law ;  and  though  judges  may  be  bribed  or  frightened,  yet 
laws  cannot.  The  law  is  impartial  and  inflexible  ;  it  has  no 
passions  or  affections,  and  consequently  never  accepts  persons, 
nor  dispenses  with  itself. 

For  let  the  most  potent  sinner  upon  earth  speak  out,  and 
tell  us  whether  he  can  command  down  the  clamors  and  re 
viling  of  a  guilty  conscience,  and  impose  silence  upon  that 
bold  reprover.  He  may  perhaps  for  a  while  put  on  a  high 
and  a  big  look ;  but  can  he,  for  all  that,  look  conscience  out 
of  countenance  ?  And  he  may  also  dissemble  a  little  forced 
jollity ;  that  is,  he  may  court  his  mistress,  and  quaff  his  cups, 
and  perhaps  sprinkle  them  now  and  then  with  a  few  Dammees; 
but  who,  in  the  mean  time,  besides  his  own  wretched,  miser 
able  self,  knows  of  those  secret,  bitter  infusions  which  thst 
terrible  thing,  called  conscience,  makes  into  all  his  draughts  ? 
Believe  it,  most  of  the  appearing  mirth  in  the  world  is  not 
mirth,  but  art.  The  wounded  spirit  is  not  seen,  but  walks 
under  a  disguise ;  and  still  the  less  you  see  of  it,  the  better  it 
looks. 

On  the  contrary,  if  we  consider  the  virtuous  person,  let 
him  declare  freely  whether  ever  his  conscience  checked  him 
for  his  innocence,  or  upbraided  him  for  an  action  of  duty ; 
did  it  ever  bestow  any  of  its  hidden  lashes  or  concealed  bites 
on  a  mind  severely  pure,  chaste,  and  religious  ? 

But  when  conscience  shall  complain,  cry  out,  and  recoil, 
let  a  man  descend  into  himself  with  too  just  a  suspicion  that 
all  is  not  right  within.  For  surely  that  hue  and  cry  was  not 
raised  upon  him  for  nothing.  The  spoils  of  a  rifled  innocence 
are  borne  away,  and  the  man  has  stolen  something  from  his 
own  soul,  for  which  he  ought  to  be  pursued,  and  will  at  last 
certainly  be  overtook. 

Let  every  one  therefore  attend  the  sentence  of  his  con 
science  :  for  he  may  be  sure  it  will  not  daub  nor  flatter.  It 
is  as  severe  as  law,  as  impartial  as  truth.  It  will  neither  con 
ceal  nor  pervert  what  it  knows. 

And  thus  I  have  done  with  the  third  of  those  four  par 
ticulars  at  first  proposed,  and  shown  whence,  and  upon  what 


496  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  xxiv. 

account  it  is,  that  the  testimony  of  conscience,  concerning  our 
spiritual  estate,  comes  to  he  so  authentic,  and  so  much  to  he 
relied  upon  :  namely,  for  that  it  is  fully  empowered  and  com 
missioned  to  this  great  office  hy  God  himself;  and  withal,  that 
it  is  extremely  quicksighted  to  apprehend  and  discern ;  and 
moreover  very  tender  and  sensihle  of  every  thing  that  con 
cerns  the  soul.  And  lastly,  that  it  is  most  exactly  and  severely 
impartial  in  judging  of  whatsoever  comes  before  it.  Every 
one  of  which  qualifications  justly  contributes  to  the  credit  and 
authority  of  the  sentence  which  shall  be  passed  by  it.  And 
so  we  are  at  length  arrived  at  the  fourth  and  last  thing  pro 
posed  from  the  words ;  which  was  to  assign  some  particular 
cases  or  instances,  in  which  this  confidence  towards  God,  sug 
gested  by  a  rightly  informed  conscience,  does  most  eminently 
show  and  exert  itself. 

I  shall  mention  three. 

1.  In  our  addresses  to  God  hy  prayer.  When  a  man  shall 
presume  to  come  and  place  himself  in  the  presence  of  the 
great  Searcher  of  hearts,  and  to  ask  something  of  him,  while 
his  conscience  is  all  the  while  smiting  him  on  the  face,  and 
telling  him  what  a  rebel  and  a  traitor  he  is  to  the  majesty 
which  he  supplicates,  surely  such  an  one  should  think  with 
himself,  that  the  God  whom  he  prays  to  is  greater  than  his 
conscience,  and  pierces  into  all  the  filth  and  baseness  of  his 
heart  with  a  much  clearer  and  more  severe  inspection.  And 
if  so,  will  he  not  likewise  resent  the  provocation  more  deeply, 
and  revenge  it  upon  him  more  terribly,  if  repentance  does  not 
divert  the  blow  ?  Every  such  prayer  is  big  with  impiety  and 
contradiction,  and  makes  as  odious  a  noise  in  the  ears  of  God 
as  the  harangues  of  one  of  those  rebel  fasts,  or  humiliations  in 
the  year  forty-one;  invoking  the  blessings  of  Heaven  upon 
such  actions  and  designs  as  nothing  but  hell  could  reward. 

One  of  the  most  peculiar  qualifications  of  a  heart  rightly 
disposed  for  prayer  is,  a  well-grounded  confidence  of  a  man's 
fitness  for  that  duty.  In  Heb.  x.  22,  Let  us  draw  near  with  a 
true  hearty  in  full  assurance  of  faith,  says  the  apostle.  But 
whence  must  this  assurance  spring?  Why,  we  are  told  in 
the  very  next  words  of  the  same  verse:  having  our  hearts 
sprinkled  from  an  evil  conscience :  otherwise  the  voice  of  an 
impure  conscience  will  cry  much  louder  than  our  prayers,  and 


N  iii.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  497 


speak  more  effectually  against  us  than  these  can  intercede 
for  us. 

And  now,  if  prayer  be  the  great  conduit  of  mercy,  by  which 
the  blessings  of  heaven  are  derived  upon  the  creature,  and 
the  noble  instrument  of  converse  between  God  and  the  soul, 
then  surely  that  which  renders  it  ineffectual  and  loathsome  to 
God,  must  needs  be  of  the  most  mischievous  and  destructive 
consequence  to  mankind  imaginable  ;  and  consequently  to  be 
removed  with  all  that  earnestness  and  concern  with  which  a 
man  would  rid  himself  of  a  plague  or  a  mortal  infection.  For 
it  taints  and  pollutes  every  prayer  ;  it  turns  an  oblation  into 
an  affront  ;  and  the  odors  of  a  sacrifice  into  the  exhalations  of 
a  carcass.  And,  in  a  word,  makes  the  heavens  over  us  brass, 
denying  all  passage  either  to  descending  mercies  or  ascend 
ing  petitions. 

But  on  the  other  side,  when  a  man's  breast  is  clear,  and  the 
same  heart  which  indites  does  also  encourage  his  prayer, 
when  his  innocence  pushes  on  the  attempt,  and  vouches  the 
success  ;  such  an  one  goes  boldly  to  the  throne  of  grace,  and 
his  boldness  is  not  greater  than  his  welcome.  God  recognizes 
the  voice  of  his  own  Spirit  interceding  within  him,  and  his 
prayers  are  not  only  followed,  but  even  prevented  with  an 
answer. 

2dly,  A  second  instance,  in  which  this  confidence  towards 
God  does  so  remarkably  show  itself,  is  at  the  time  of  some 
notable  trial  or  sharp  affliction.  When  a  man's  friends  shall 
desert  him,  his  relations  disown  him,  and  all  dependencies  fail 
him,  and,  in  a  word,  the  whole  world  frown  upon  him,  cer 
tainly  it  will  then  be  of  some  moment  to  have  a  friend  in  the 
court  of  conscience,  which  shall,  as  it  were,  buoy  up  his  sink 
ing  spirits,  and  speak  greater  things  for  him  than  all  these 
together  can  declaim  against  him. 

For  as  it  is  most  certain  that  no  hight  of  honor,  nor 
affluence  of  fortune,  can  keep  a  man  from  being  miserable, 
nor  indeed  contemptible,  when  an  enraged  conscience  shall 
fly  at  him,  and  take  him  by  the  throat,  so  it  is  also  as  certain 
that  no  temporal  adversities  can  cut  off  those  inward,  secret, 
invincible  supplies  of  comfort,  which  conscience  shall  pour  in 
upon  distressed  innocence,  in  spite  and  in  defiance  of  all 
worldly  calamities. 

VOL.  i.  32 


498  Of  the  Nature  and  [SEEM.  xxiv. 

Naturalists  observe,  that  when  the  frost  seizes  upon  wine, 
they  are  only  the  slighter  and  more  waterish  parts  of  it  that 
are  subject  to  be  congealed ;  but  still  there  is  a  mighty  spirit 
which  can  retreat  into  itself,  and  there  within  its  own  compass 
lie  secure  from  the  freezing  impression  of  the  element  round 
about  it.  And  just  so  it  is  with  the  spirit  of  a  man,  while  a 
good  conscience  makes  it  firm  and  impenetrable.  An  outward 
affliction  can  no  more  benumb  or  quell  it,  than  a  blast  of  wind 
can  freeze  up  the  blood  in  a  man's  veins,  or  a  little  shower  of 
rain  soak  into  his  heart,  and  there  quench  the  principle  of 
life  itself. 

Take  the  two  greatest  instances  of  misery,  which,  I  think, 
are  incident  to  human  nature ;  to  wit,  poverty  and  shame,  and 
I  dare  oppose  conscience  to  them  both. 

And  first  for  poverty.  Suppose  a  man  stripped  of  all,  driven 
out  of  house  and  home,  and  perhaps  out  of  his  country  too, 
(which  having,  within  our  memory,  happened  to  so  many, 
may  too  easily,  God  knows,  be  supposed  again,)  yet  if  his 
conscience  shall  tell  him  that  it  was  not  for  any  failure  in  his 
own  duty,  but  from  the  success  of  another's  villainy,  that  all 
this  befell  him,  why  then  his  banishment  becomes  his  pre 
ferment,  his  rags  his  trophies,  his  nakedness  his  ornament ; 
and  so  long  as  his  innocence  is  his  repast,  he  feasts  and  ban 
quets  upon  bread  and  water.  He  has  disarmed  his  afflictions, 
unstung  his  miseries ;  and  though  he  has  not  the  proper  hap 
piness  of  the  world,  yet  he  has  the  greatest  that  is  to  be  en 
joyed  in  it. 

And  lor  this  we  might  appeal  to  the  experience  of  those 
great  and  good  men  who,  in  the  late  times  of  rebellion  and 
confusion,  were  forced  into  foreign  countries,  for  their  un 
shaken  firmness  and  fidelity  to  the  oppressed  cause  of  majesty 
and  religion,  whether  their  conscience  did  not,  like  a  fidus 
Achates,  still  bear  them  company,  stick  close  to  them,  and 
suggest  comfort,  even  when  the  causes  of  comfort  were  invis 
ible  ;  and,  in  a  word,  verify  that  great  saying  of  the  apostle 
in  their  mouths  :  We  have  nothing,  and  yet  we  possess  all  things. 

For  it  is  not  barely  a  man's  abridgment  in  his  external 
accommodations  which  makes  him  miserable,  but  when  his 
conscience  shall  hit  him  in  the  teeth,  and  tell  him  that  it  was 
his  sin  and  his  folly  which  brought  him  under  these  abridg- 


1  JOHN  in.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  499 

ments.  That  his  present  scanty  meals  are  but  the  natural 
effects  of  his  former  over-full  ones.  That  it  was  his  tailor, 
and  his  cook,  his  fine  fashions,  and  his  French  ragouts,  which 
sequestered  him ;  and,  in  a  word,  that  he  came  by  his  poverty 
as  sinfully  as  some  usually  do  by  their  riches ;  and  conse 
quently,  that  Providence  treats  him  with  all  these  severities, 
not  by  way  of  trial,  but  by  way  of  punishment  and  revenge. 
The  mind  surely,  of  itself,  can  feel  none  of  the  burnings  of  a 
fever;  but  if  my  fever  be  occasioned  by  a  surfeit,  and  that 
surfeit  caused  by  my  sin,  it  is  that  which  adds  fuel  to  the  fiery 
disease,  and  rage  to  the  distemper. 

2dly,  Let  us  consider  also  the  case  of  calumny  and  dis 
grace  ;  doubtless,  the  sting  of  every  reproachful  speech  is  the 
truth  of  it ;  and  to  be  conscious,  is  that  which  gives  an  edge 
and  keenness  to  the  invective.  Otherwise,  when  conscience 
shall  plead  not  guilty  to  the  charge,  a  man  entertains  it  not  as 
an  indictment,  but  as  a  libel.  He  hears  all  such  calumnies 
with  a  generous  unconcernment ;  and  receiving  them  at  one 
ear,  gives  them  a  free  and  easy  passage  through  the  other : 
they  fall  upon  him  like  rain  or  hail  upon  an  oiled  garment ; 
they  may  make  a  noise  indeed,  but  can  find  no  entrance.  The 
very  whispers  of  an  acquitting  conscience  will  drown  the  voice 
of  the  loudest  slander. 

What  a  long  charge  of  hypocrisy,  and  many  other  base 
things,  did  Job's  friends  draw  up  against  him  !  but  he  re 
garded  it  no  more  than  the  dunghill  which  he  sat  upon,  while 
his  conscience  enabled  him  to  appeal  even  to  God  himself; 
and,  in  spite  of  calumny,  to  assert  and  hold  fast  his  integrity. 

And  did  not  Joseph  lie  under  as  black  an  infamy  as  the 
charge  of  the  highest  ingratitude  and  the  lewdest  villainy 
could  fasten  upon  him?  Yet  his  conscience  raised  him  so 
much  above  it,  that  he  scorned  so  much  as  to  clear  himself, 
or  to  recriminate  the  strumpet  %  a  true  narrative  of  the  mat 
ter.  For  we  read  nothing  of  that  in  the  whole  story :  such 
confidence,  such  greatness  of  spirit,  does  a  clear  conscience 
give  a  man  ;  always  making  him  more  solicitous  to  preserve 
.  his  innocence  than  concerned  to  prove  it.  And  so  we  come 
now  to  the 

Third,  and  last  instance,  in  which,  above  all  others,  this 
confidence  towards  God  does  most  eminently  show  and  exert 


500  Of  the  Nature  and  [SERM.  xxiv. 

itself;  and  that  is  at  the  time  of  death.  Which  surely  gives 
the  grand  opportunity  of  trying  both  the  strength  and  worth 
of  every  principle.  When  a  man  shall  he  just  about  to  quit 
the  stage  of  this  world,  to  put  off  his  mortality,  and  to  deliver 
up  his  last  accounts  to  God ;  at  which  sad  time  his  memory 
shall  serve  him  for  little  else  but  to  terrify  him  with  a  spright- 
ful  review  of  his  past  life,  and  his  former  extravagances  stripped 
of  all  their  pleasure,  but  retaining  their  guilt.  What  is  it 
then  that  can  promise  him  a  fair  passage  into  the  other  world, 
or  a  comfortable  appearance  before  his  dreadful  Judge,  when 
he  is  there  ?  Not  all  the  friends  and  interests,  all  the  riches 
and  honors  under  heaven,  can  speak  so  much  as  a  word  for 
him,  or  one  word  of  comfort  to  him  in  that  condition ;  they 
may  possibly  reproach,  but  they  can  not  relieve  him. 

No,  at  this  disconsolate  time,  when  the  busy  tempter  shall 
be  more  than  usually  apt  to  vex  and  trouble  him,  and  the 
pains  of  a  dying  body  to  hinder  and  discompose  him,  and  the 
settlement  of  worldly  affairs  to  disturb  and  confound  him; 
and,  in  a  word,  all  things  conspire  to  make  his  sick-bed 
grievous  and  uneasy  :  nothing  can  then  stand  up  against  all 
these  ruins,  and  speak  life  in  the  midst  of  death,  but  a  clear 
conscience. 

And  the  testimony  of  that  shall  make  the  comforts  of 
heaven  descend  upon  his  weary  head,  like  a  refreshing  dew 
or  shower  upon  a  parched  ground.  It  shall  give  him  some 
lively  earnests  and  secret  anticipations  of  his  approaching 
joy.  It  shall  bid  his  soul  go  out  of  the  body  undauntedly, 
and  lift  up  its  head  with  confidence  before  saints  and  angels. 
Surely  the  comfort  which  it  conveys  at  this  season  is  some 
thing  bigger  than  the  capacities  of  mortality ;  mighty  and  un 
speakable,  and  not  to  be  understood  till  it  comes  to  be  felt. 

And  now,  who  would  not  quit  all  the  pleasures,  and  trash, 
and  trifles,  which  are  apt  to  captivate  the  heart  of  man,  and 
pursue  the  greatest  rigors  of  piety  and  austerities  of  a  good 
life,  to  purchase  to  himself  such  a  conscience  as,  at  the  hour 
of  death,  when  all  the  friendships  of  the  world  shall  bid  him 
adieu,  and  the  whole  creation  turn  its  back  upon  him,  shall  < 
dismiss  his  soul,  and  close  his  eyes  with  that  blessed  sentence, 
Well  done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant,  enter  thou  into  the  joy 
of  thy  Lord ! 


l  JOHN  m.  21.]  Measures  of  Conscience.  501 

For  he  whose  conscience  enables  him  to  look  God  in  the  face 
with  confidence  here,  shall  be  sure  to  see  his  face  also  with 
comfort  hereafter. 

Which  God  of  his  mercy  grant  to  us  all  ;  to  whom  be  rendered 
and  ascribed,  as  is  most  due,  all  praise,  might,  majesty,  and 
dominion,  both  now  and  for  evermore.  Amen. 


END    OF    VOL.    I. 


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DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 

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2623li7 


South,   R. 

Sermons  preached  upon 


Call  Number: 

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1866 


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